i write things - kpop things - mainly svt things - you might like them - idk
i crosspost to ao3 here
reblogs & reading at carat library.exe
general blog rating : nsfw and mdni
here are recent posts : call the masseur - c.sc | boyfriend things I - c.sc | after dark I - c.sc | boyfriend things II - c.sc | ride - c.sc | after dark II - c.sc | don't let go - c.sc | rent an alpha - k.mg | hinge, part one - c.sc |
here is my seungcheol m. list | mingyu m. list | hoshi m. list |
fic navi tags : #toast : seungcheol x reader | #toast : mingyu x reader |
wips : hinge - where burned toast lands you a date and more - c.sc [m.list] [part one]
if you want to chat asks are open (no minors pls)
footnotes :
(1A) i write for whoever i'm in the mood to write for - so use my tags to find who you like
(1B) if your blog looks like a bot, i will block you, maybe add a pfp :/
(2) do not copy my work or steal my banners - they are mine
>>> the one where a fire alarm gets you a date and then some
fic navigation: master list ↩️ | ▶️ part 1 | ⏩ part 2 | ⏩ epilogue
pairing: c.sc / f!reader
summary: it starts with some toast on fire, and turns into a date and maybe the love of your life - OR - you’re an over-tired corporate worker who meets a handsome firefighter who makes you realize that there might be more to life than jumping through every hoop work gives you
𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐮𝐭
word count: 16.8k
genre tags: alternate universe - modern world | non-idol-au | firefighter!cheol | soft!cheol | corporate girlie!reader | slice of life | meet-cute | romance | romcom | idiots in love | eventual smut (see chapter warnings) | domestic af | hospitals (no one dies) | pov swaps | plot with porn | found family | reader hates dating apps | reader has stressful job | sort of svt fire station | semi-text chat | Kkuma included |
a/n: misspellings in dms between characters are intentional andddd yeah, just enjoy ^^ like, reblog, or generally let me know if you also kind of love their world bcs i actually do and kept adding to this and worrying about having too many paragraphs for a single post - and now it's in parts soooo oops ;-; thx for reading with me tho - this is my first like one big long fic here eekkkk, okie byeee and if you prefer reading longer works on ao3
✦•┈๑⋅… 1 …·๑┈•✦
You had been scrolling apps aimlessly when your friend asked how dating was going.
You shrugged. “Fine,” you’d mumbled.
‘Fine’ was more like a deflection, not an adjective. It was meant to end the conversation, not spur it the fuck along.
“You’ve got to find someone,” came Rei’s voice - she was so certain.
You rolled your eyes. “I really don’t, though.”
“Okay, but you’ll be the sad, lonely one learning how to Heimlich yourself,” she muttered, with a judging glance.
“I’m never watching 30 Rock with you again,” you groaned, and chucked a pillow at her.
You really hated dating apps. They were so impersonal. Plus all the stats said there were way more women on them anyway - like the chances of matching were so low to begin with.
Besides, you weren’t exactly throbbing for some dude who’d just leave crumbs everywhere, and make extra garbage, and have meat sweats mid-fuck.
Maybe you could ask your dealer out, you thought - that’d shut Rei up, surely, you guessed.
Anyway, you weren’t wading into fucking Bumble, or Hinge, or any of the other spaces again.
If you were going to meet a guy, it’d be irl, thank you very much.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
Rei was a good friend. And a mostly fine roommate.
She was less great when it came to things like not setting off the fire alarm when she forgot toast.
She was even worse when she was stoned and forgot that the bread even existed and wandered off to find saltwater taffy in her desk drawer.
So it wasn’t shocking that the fire alarm went off, waking you with its insistent PING-pinging sounds.
You bolted up and out of bed, running downstairs to find smoke billowing from under the kitchen door - fuck, fuck - this was bad, you thought as you pushed the door and went in.
At least it was localized. Just two tiny infernos in the oven.
You made it to the kitchen in time to shut everything off.
However, you didn’t make it in time to stop your security company from contacting emergency services.
And now you were stood on your front lawn, trying to explain to a fire…person that yes, the fire was, in fact, out.
You were in a very unsexy robe, terry cloth with big ol’ stripes, feet jammed into your massive yellow snow boots because those were the shoes in the hall closet of death, and a baseball cap tossed on to hide your bed head when the fire truck appeared.
You were absolutely fucking mortified. Because it was two pieces of toast! But you also couldn’t really do anything but handle it since Rei was happily passed out.
Fucking twat, you’d determined, lovingly, when you checked on her.
The fire department, though, you played every stupid card you could to explain about your friend the terrible cook.
At 2:15 AM.
On a Tuesday.
The main guy seemed to accept the idea of two dumb females.
Of course he would.
The guy next to him, though, he was younger and seemed to be taking it all in with a slight smirk.
He had a look like: (1) he didn’t believe you anymore than he could throw you regarding the idea that you’re-just-dumb, and (2) he kept glancing at your baseball cap like it was genuinely laughable.
It was distracting - who was he to judge your hat?
You kept looking to the side, registering the smirk from the peanut gallery.
So what if you noticed that the peanut gallery had gorgeous lips, and large eyes that flicked from your cap to your face - he wasn’t eyeing your tits, at any rate.
The main guy huffed. Hard. Something about a report to file and wandered off.
You apologized profusely, pointing to the remnants of the burned toast on the front lawn as evidence that the fire was definitely OUT.
You’d flung both pieces out the kitchen window with total abandon.
Fucking toast.
You were lucky not to be getting a citation. But there was some fine for a false alarm and response. You’d be checking the mail for that.
What an absolute fucking headache.
You sighed, muttering a small ‘thanks’ to the firefighters for their time. The second guy, Mr. Peanut, was still smirking.
You couldn’t help it when you met his gaze - he was really fucking fine. You’d finally looked since his boss was stomping away.
“What?” You asked quickly, genuinely wondering what was so funny.
“That hat,” he pointed, “kind of an insane choice, no?” He asked, voice low and sweet.
Oh, he was cute. And had one of those voices. Fuck.
You were quick to pull it off and see it was one from your home city - The Mets.
You were firmly in Dodgers land. You rolled your eyes and jammed it back on your head. “It’s called fashion, lance corporal —“
He snorted. “Fire Captain,” he corrected gently.
“Yeah, well, Fire Captain, I don’t even keep up with any teams,” you trailed off.
He smiled, a cute smile. “No? Maybe you should try a game sometime,” he suggested, voice soft.
You eyed him - he was definitely fit, tall, handsome. Definitely not staring out at you from your phone screen.
“That an offer?” You’d blurted it before you could even think.
He smiled, teeth showing. Really fucking cute. He glanced over his shoulder and then gave a small nod. “Just uh,” he glanced back, “you know, call the station, not 9-1-1, ask for Captain Choi?”
You found yourself nodding.
✦•┈๑⋅… 2 …·๑┈•✦
“So, did she call?” Mingyu asked. He was sitting across from Seungcheol and already halfway through his food somehow.
They’d barely sat down - and already with the question.
Seungcheol groaned. “Stop asking,” he muttered, digging into his chili and regretting that he’d told Mingyu anything. “And stop blabbing about it.” He shook his head, knowing his friend was a loudmouth. Unintentionally, usually, but still.
Besides, he didn’t want to talk about the girl in the Mets hat. And he didn’t want everyone in the station to know. All he needed was Soonyoung to find out…then the gc.
He just wanted to eat his lunch.
His shift was almost over, and then he had two days off to crash and game and - shit - pick up dry cleaning because one of their friends had the nerve to get married and he needed a suit.
Fuck - he’d definitely forgotten the wedding thing…maybe because of the girl in the Mets hat. It wasn’t the only false alarm they’d gotten in the last few days, but watching her walk out every version of ‘I’m-just-a-girl’ was entertaining, especially when she’d given him a new rank and title.
He’d not mentioned that part. He knew Mingyu, and ‘Lance Corporal Choi’ would have become a nickname way too quickly - he’d have to be reassigned to a station on the East Coast for it to maybe end.
Why he’d even told Mingyu at all was a mystery - Mingyu was too positive to share things like that with.
Besides, Seungcheol hadn’t given her his number because he was on duty and responding to a call, and that would definitely have looked weird. Plus, she was totally out of his league.
Someone living in Echo Park was not calling him.
He’d already made peace with that fact.
Now he just needed Mingyu to do the same.
“Look,” he started as he ate, “be more helpful and ask me whether I picked up my suit for the wedding thing, okay?”
“Did you?” Mingyu asked flatly.
“No - I mean like ask me tomorrow when I’m off.”
“So be your reminder?” Mingyu asked, brows arched.
Seungcheol shrugged. “More helpful than asking me about whether some random girl calls the station,” Seungcheol said as he ate.
Mingyu sighed. “Dude - save these requests for Mets Girl, or - just hear me out - there are these things on your phone called apps…and there’s one called ‘reminders’ – boom – mind-blowing shit, right?” Mingyu asked with an annoyingly condescending smirk.
Seungcheol rolled his eyes and gave Mingyu the finger. “Such a prick,” he mumbled as he finished his lunch and started to leave the table.
“But a prick with a date to Jeonghan’s wedding,” Mingyu added, still smirking…like a prick.
Suddenly, Seungcheol was glad they were on alternating shifts because it was that kind of comment that really annoyed him. What did it matter if he went stag? His life wasn’t over because he hadn’t asked anyone.
Still, their shifts weren’t completely alternating.
On a normal day, he’d be looking forward to when they were back on the same rotation. He’d almost always rather be on shift with Mingyu than not. Not that he didn’t trust anyone else, but he and Mingyu had known each other since training. And even if he trusted everyone, he always trusted Mingyu a little bit more.
Which made it even more irksome that Mingyu cared about his dating life. And brought it up. And had filled out multiple dating profiles for Seungcheol.
Seungcheol had checked the Hinge profile once and was surprised to find that he apparently enjoyed rock climbing on the weekends. He hadn’t even bothered to change it because he’d never use the app, so what did it matter if all the details were bogus?
˚⟡˖ ࣪
The problem was the texts he woke up to on Thursday morning. He was off and lying in bed at home.
[k.mingyu]
𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚍𝚍𝚍
𝚏𝚘𝚛 fire captain 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒
𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚞 𝚍𝚞𝚍𝚎
𝚋𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎
Staring at the texts, still blinking away sleep - he typed something about ‘stop bothering me’ and deleted it. He just wasn’t sure Mingyu was serious.
[seungcheol]
dude
it’s early
[k.mingyu]
i waited
told her to call back fri. bcs that’s ur next shift
[seungcheol]
surrprised u didn’t give her my number
[k.mingyu]
on duty
or i woould have 10000%
u need a date
Groaning loudly enough to get an odd look from Kkuma, Seungcheol flopped back against his pillows, muttering ‘sorry’ in the direction of her basket.
Still, he did not need a date. He needed to drop off dry cleaning and buy some food besides cereal…those were needs.
He also had to make sure that suit still fit - at least the wedding was still six weeks away…besides, how was he supposed to know that she would actually call him?
Lying there, in the privacy of his own apartment, he could admit that she was really cute that night too.
She’d looked gently insane. And really good too.
The entire outfit was madness - he’d had to stare at her hat to keep a straight face - and the Mets too, what a shit team - and the toast on the lawn - just these two beyond crispy little briquettes because, of course, throw them on the lawn…during an LA summer. Nothing bad could come from that.
Remembering the way she turned to him to ask, “what?” only made him snort.
[seungcheol]
did she rlly call
[k.mingyu]
yes
srsly i wouldn’t joke abt a grl
ur a hermit
[seungcheol]
we can’t all be u
And fuck everything with a pulse, Seungcheol thought with a grin. Mingyu was known to attract every sort of girl and then struggle to say anything but ‘yes.’ Which made for great stories around the station…
[k.mingyu]
duh
u just ignore when ppl like u
or freak out n do nothing
Seungcheol scowled. He didn’t freak out. Nothing was sort of accurate - he usually didn’t make a lot of moves. And he wasn’t going to argue with hermit - half of the reasons he went out were to take Kkuma on walks or for other Kkuma-related things. And when he was on duty, he left her with the little old lady upstairs, Mrs. Lee - so he basically left his house to walk his dog or to visit someone else’s grandma who watched his dog…
Actually, the more he thought, the more he knew that Mrs. Lee probably knew more about him than his last girlfriend had…she knew what he did for a living, his schedule (she had a printed copy that he updated monthly), where he was from, where his family was from, his favorite dishes, that he didn’t like things too spicy…maybe he did have a date for Jeonghan’s wedding.
She did often refer to him as a ‘nice young man.’
He rolled onto his stomach to hide the way he was laughing at the idea, which wasn’t actually that bad of an idea - he knew her family didn’t visit her very often, and old people seemed to enjoy weddings…plus, Mingyu would shit a brick.
He buried his face in his pillow.
He was on his second nap of the morning. He’d been up early to walk Kkuma and pick up some milk from the bodega.
And then he’d come home and passed out for a bit…and woke up for a bit…maybe Mingyu had texted at a normal time…he didn’t know.
But apparently, on Friday, there would be a call. He yawned and flopped onto his back, deciding that he should maybe try to be positive.
He heard Kkuma’s collar jingle and then the sounds of her padding over to circle the stairs she didn’t like.
The joy of a studio apartment with a loft for the “bedroom” was that his bed wasn’t technically in his living room - it was over the kitchen and had enough room for him to sit up without whacking his head, but it was only accessible by way of these weird, wiry little spiral stairs that Kkuma never seemed to trust.
He’d realized the mistake quickly when she was a puppy, and he’d basically lived on his sofa to avoid Kkuma whining.
And now, he knew she probably wanted him up, or at least on the sofa where she could jump up too.
Little doggie demands were definitely something that he regularly gave in to, and he wasn’t embarrassed about that. Sitting up and running a hand through his hair, his mind lingered because…she’d actually called him.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
Besides the obvious fire emergency that wasn’t actually. You were in the middle of a fairly shit-show week.
Also, you weren’t sure if you were really meant to call the local fire station or not - you had looked it up during your commute, though. Fire station number 20.
And then you’d seen him in the station’s photos and immediately locked your phone like he would somehow cosmically know you’d searched for him.
But the embarrassment was real.
He’d seen you after you’d raided the closet that literally existed to absorb all the crap you and Rei collected and couldn’t be asked to actually put away when one of you cleaned - just throw it in the closet…and look like you fell into a pile of old tat just in time to meet a cute guy.
Sitting in your cubicle Tuesday morning, staring down at your first coffee of the day, you decided that closet had to be addressed.
You were less certain about calling him, though. Because it wasn’t even him, exactly; it was a station…if it was like calling your office, there was a receptionist and a phone tree and…you didn’t love the idea.
Especially if it wasn’t serious.
Stirring your coffee, you considered if his saying to call and who to ask for constituted seriousness of purpose. Luckily, your inbox started its normal explosion, which distracted you totally until you left the office at 2:23 PM to grab the burrito you’d ordered.
You were a regular at the place, even though it was standing room only for eating. You were pretty sure that standing only meant they didn’t have to offer a bathroom to customers. Which was fine; you could stand and watch people milling around the plaza that led to Angel’s Flight, which you kind of loved. The little orange and black rail-ish car that you sometimes walked to and rode up and down just to be out of the office.
It was like $1.50 for some level of sanity.
Just like your burrito. And standing and staring at something besides your computer or the office’s ceiling or the gray fabric of your cubicle’s walls.
You unlocked your phone, and it immediately showed you where you’d left off - seeing Fire Captain Choi’s face (and others, of course) next to a giant number 20.
The burrito made you feel more confident that you weren’t disturbing the particles of the universe by reading the caption and seeing that it was actually “Fire Captain Seungcheol Choi.”
And now you knew his first name.
But still not whether he was actually expecting you to call.
Which was a silly thought - you knew you - you’d call.
You just needed the correct level of burrito to settle your stomach. You had called guys before.
Just pre-apps…and usually it was a text about class or something.
Shit. What did you do before apps?
You clicked around to find the number for the station, and noticed that there was a Yelp! page… which was wild to see since it was a public service…not a donut shop. Still, you poked around the main webpage hoping that there were different lines, like for an operator or something, but no - just the one number to call.
But you’d finished your burrito, and you had a client call to prep for, anyway.
You could only hope that it would keep…and not be too weird.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
Wednesday was an early day.
You started checking emails before you were out of bed to see what might have happened overnight - nothing that was literally immediate. So you’d gotten up, found a quick YouTube yoga session, grabbed a shower but not your hair - dry shampoo would work for another day…and then you’d grabbed a yogurt, a granola bar, and a protein shake for breakfast and a little wheel of cheese and some nuts for a snack…otherwise, you would stress eat ALL of the BBQ flavored chips in the breakroom.
You might still.
You got to the office by 7:45 AM and were only minimally sweaty.
You ate at your desk.
And no burrito time because there were changes that someone wanted to the formatting of all the tables and charts…so you ordered a green bowl and the de-stress green drink and a ginger shot in the group order that the admin had started.
You knew the ginger shot well - it was vile, but it did wake you up.
It was one of those days where even going to the bathroom felt timed. Not in a visible way, but going always risked that that would be exactly when someone would ‘not be able to find you.’ Because bodily functions ceased to exist if there was a deliverable, somehow. At least in the minds of your colleagues, anyway.
And then there was dinner - a team dinner to celebrate another job ending. You’d thought you could slip out of it, but no - it was planned - someone had flown in…therefore, an Irish goodbye was not the fuck happening.
You lingered at your desk a bit so you could at least Uber to the restaurant on your own. And for once, you loved LA traffic because it gave you a solid twenty-five minutes of quiet.
Or it would have…if you hadn’t started talking to your driver.
But he was nice in that way that was endearing and easily approachable, and when you started off by asking if you could get his opinion, he was locked in like you’d known one another since childhood.
By the time you were getting your first drink, you’d been told emphatically to call that fire station!
You’d almost done it in the Uber, but his app had pinged for a pickup. He’d wished you good luck, though.
And anyway, at least you’d talked to someone about it. And they thought it was a genuine offer, partially because “man was at work, and he still dropped his name. MAMA come on.”
Did it maybe confirm your own thoughts? Yes.
But that was okay.
And once you’d had two cocktails, you slipped out to the balcony and dialed the number.
You listened to the first ring, and before there could even be a second one - “Fire Station 20, Specialist Kim speaking.”
The voice was so quick and abrupt. “Uh, hi - sorry, someone told me to call? And now that feels slightly weird…” Your voice trailed off, and you definitely wanted to hang up.
There was barely a pause. “Seungcheol - he’s not on shift, but I’ll tell him that the Mets Girl called - he’s back on Friday, and I feel like he’s got a pile of paperwork, so call like early when he’ll be in the office.”
You couldn’t help the small laugh at the informational deluge. “That’s extremely specific—”
“I know, but I’m not a fan of missed connections, so Friday, like 0800 - solid chance that he’ll be the only person in the office then, too.”
You nodded, still smiling. “Okay, Friday - thanks.”
And the call ended - not with a nasally operator or a phone tree debacle - just very specific directions from someone who knew Seungcheol.
It was maybe less nerve-inducing to know that apparently he had told someone that you were going to call…still, there was Thursday to get through.
And then the actual call.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
Thursday dragged at a literal sloth’s pace. But uphill. So maybe it was just a human pace, but going up an extremely steep incline…the nuance did not matter.
The day was a fucking slog until you were in your car and experiencing zero traffic because it was like 1:00 AM - it was technically Friday.
It was technically Friday, and all you wanted to do was pass out under a rock without wifi or cell signal for the next three days.
But while you were sitting at a tremendously long red light on West Sunset, you remembered that you were supposed to call Seungcheol…today. 0800 according to the voice who’d answered the call.
You weren’t sure if you could think of a less sexy scenario - a scheduled call with a member of the male species after other members of that species had given you endless tedious fucking notes on your report section, including that the shadow they’d requested for their tables was slightly larger than what they preferred…it was the kind of thing that made you consider physical violence.
But, no, you’d made it through. And you’d be revived by 0800.
You exhaled a long, slow breath and stared at the stupid red light, willing it to CHANGE.
And once it finally did - you made it home, parked. And autopiloted yourself to your room. You didn’t even change for bed or pull the duvet down - you just face planted.
Sleep was good.
But your 6:00 AM alarm was bad. Still, you sat up somehow, blinking into existence and hoping a shower would get your brain online.
You were in the office by 7:45 AM - again.
And you left to get breakfast - and to call.
You felt like being on the plaza near a coffee shop was better than your normal choice of hiding in the stairwell.
The call was still scary - that whole one ring and ANSWER thing, which was probably great when the caller had an actual emergency. Maybe he would let it ring twice, though - maybe?
You jammed your headphones in and tapped to dial.
One ring. Literally.
“Fire station 20, Captain Choi speaking.”
It was so crisp - he sounded rested, even - how dare he. “Um, right, hi,” you croaked - you weren’t a wizened crone of anything, scout’s honor. You squeezed your eyes closed. “I’m - uh - I’m the false-alarm-burnt-toast-Mets-hat-girl, and I don’t know if you were serious about my calling or not…” Your voice trailed off into the fucking ether.
You could feel the pause - he was definitely deciding something. “I - yeah, I was, actually.”
Nodding, you opened your eyes to see the little bee sanctuary things you usually sat near. “This is maybe early, but when I called before, umm—”
“Mingyu told you I’d be in the office?”
“Yes - that - that’s the one.”
He was quiet for a moment. “So - I forgot that every call that comes in is recorded for training—”
You laughed. “Of course they are.”
“But if you happen to have Instagram?”
“Definitely, I am a member of this century - what should I be looking for?” You were trying to keep it together.
“It’s - basically my name…”
“Ah, a creative,” you mumbled, glad you were wearing headphones and could swap to the app and search.
“I know it’s - I spent time choosing where to add the period.”
You smiled and ran a hand through your hair. “Uh-huh - okay, so I’m guessing you were also creative with the profile picture that is clearly you?”
“Umhm, that’s - that’s me,” his voice cracked slightly. “This is terrible - this is like fourth date territory.”
You laughed then. “I think it’s perfect. No notes.”
He did at least have it set to private. You hit ‘follow’ and saw the almost immediate add.
You clicked into the messages and typed quickly.
“Testing?” he asked, reading out your message like it needed scrutiny.
“Exactly - testing.”
You watched the bubble pop up - ‘10-4’.
You smiled. “Good, 10-4.”
Another message popped up - ‘rlly srry this is complicated.’
“It’s fine - it’s silly, not catastrophic,” you mumbled.
“So we can plan?” he asked.
“Yeah, I think so, and for the record, and for the benefit of the Yelp page I happened to see - five out of five stars - all questions were answered - you were extremely obliging and knowledgeable at all times - I felt like this was just a really safe space for me...”
“That’s—” again the pause in his voice. “That’s great - I’m glad to hear that - if we can be of any further service—”
“No, no - super productive chat, thanks so much.”
And you ended the call and covered your mouth with a hand to hide the tiny screech that came from how insane the last, approximately, three minutes of your life had been.
You’d just given him a five-star rating in case there was like a review of recording and called it a safe space. What the fuck was your life, anyway?
✦•┈๑⋅… 3 …·๑┈•✦
He was on a two-day shift. And it was on day two that Mingyu came in to cover for someone who’d gotten sick.
He’d been so close to not having to give any details in person.
But there Mingyu was at roll-call…waiting, smiling, like a fucking shark…and Seungcheol’s dating life was the blood in the water. For once, he was glad he would be out inspecting buildings for the day.
Which only postponed the inevitable.
So a day of walking around a building site, sweating and miserable, checking for tiny fire code issues, and knowing Mingyu would still be there.
It was something, though - he could try to condense everything down while he sat in the back and stared blankly at a page of code in stupid, tiny font that made him feel like he needed his vision checked. Or maybe he could just talk about the phone call, not the extended cut of what planning looked like so far. Mingyu did not need to know that Seungcheol’d figured out that text bricks from you were normal and something like an emoji and one word were your version of “death.” And Mingyu never needed to know that Seungcheol liked your messages and thought it was cute when you used the goofy in-app features like the gift box message thing. Even he was embarrassed that he enjoyed it, and he had practically zero game. He should’ve been attempting to be cool.
But it felt pointless somehow like you already sort of knew that he was possibly a dork on some level. And didn’t seem to care. So technically a win, since judging by your Insta…you were hot. And probably not dorky since you went skiing and went to brunch with actual people and willingly stood in group pictures.
He didn’t go skiing. He went to brunch when Mingyu dragged him along. He avoided photos…mostly. He was…fit…he posted gym selfies. Which you had gone through and spam-liked over the weekend at 2 AM. He hadn’t asked for details about that - he just stared at the notifications when he woke up. You’d hearted every single one. Even lying in bed, he’d felt how warm his cheeks had gotten - it hadn’t mattered that he posted thirst traps - it mattered that you’d looked at every thirst trap and tapped the ‘heart’ icon. And that you knew roughly what he looked like under all the fire gear. That was a prime reason he’d set his account to private - people noticing things, when he was generally pretty modest. It wasn’t like he wasn’t noticing you…he was just quiet about it.
Still, he had to avoid telling Mingyu things.
Maybe if the date went well, then he would share? No, that didn’t sound like him.
Besides, he’d searched you in general and saw your firm profile…and your LinkedIn and all the stuff that read like it was from another planet. It wasn’t bad to see, but he wondered if maybe he’d seem boring. Boring and dorky. Even if he was fit - those were maybe strikes against anything besides a few dates…maybe one hookup. He wasn’t like Mingyu - he couldn’t just flatly be positive - he needed to manage his expectations, even if messaging you was fun - he didn’t know what it would be like in person.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
You still weren’t fully certain how you’d found yourself sitting next to Fire Captain Choi Seungcheol in the stands at a Dodgers game. Besides luck and that he possibly had questionable standards.
They weren’t playing the Mets.
Regardless, when he texted details a few days before, he’d not so subtly suggested a different hat - something about trying to fit in.
You’d glowered at the screen - your face scrunching because you weren’t that obtuse. Besides, you didn’t even like baseball. Fit in, though? You’d fit in alright. Like it was even a challenge to begin with and not just something silly he’d said. You’d rolled your eyes at yourself as you got ready. You really knew how to take the bait and run with it…at least he’d know that part. And only mildly at your expense.
Because you had gone slightly insane borrowing a jersey from a co-worker. A classic away jersey, too, apparently, according to Greg, who sat in a different cubicle cluster. You weren’t fucking around.
Seungcheol had still smirked at you when he saw you. “Cute,” he’d muttered, walking you to his Jeep.
You had the slight urge to give him the finger…instead, you just rolled your eyes and shook your head because, in your own weird way, you’d tried to do exactly what he’d suggested…fit in.
And maybe you let him open your door for you.
It was a little high school.
But also a little cute since you did have to climb onto the side step. But mostly because he seemed kind of earnest about it - not like it was ironic door opening or he wanted to touch your ass. More like this was just the thing to do.
He had a Jeep-Jeep - all white…and your knowledge ended there. It was one of the ones that looked outdoorsy and had rubber ducks across the dashboard, filling the front window. You wanted to poke a duck, but had no clue what they meant - gang symbols for all you knew. Therefore, no clue if it was rude or playful to touch. But there was one pink one that you had the urge to hurl out the window when you were on West Sunset.
Instead, you busied yourself staring out the window and glancing at him while he was driving - you’d done some light insta stalking. And maybe some photo liking…but he definitely posted thirst traps.
Gym selfie thirst traps, too.
Rei had caught you ogling in the kitchen and classified him as ‘Damnnn - if you don’t fuck, I swear.’ You’d laughed, of course, even if you felt just a little flustered.
Because he was maybe, unquestionably sexy…a word you weren’t super fond of, but you still kept finding yourself scrolling idly through his photos for the last few days…weeks? years? Who knew anymore…
You’d been in bed the night before, scrolling, and you wondered if you’d ever been this interested in a man’s pecs before.
No. clearly.
You’d sighed loudly into the dark.
“He’s sexy,” you’d huffed to yourself, flopping around until you found the right position and the cool spot under your pillow. “He’s stupidly sexy.”
Still, it was a little difficult to reconcile the thirst traps where he was flexing to show his arms, cap pulled low over his eyes, and the guy next to you in the car toggling around for music that didn’t sound like it was part of a gym playlist.
So much trap rap…and EDM, and you kind of respected both - it was more his own reaction to the situation that was entertaining.
His need to hit skip quickly and repeatedly was palpable.
You tried not to grin since the cosmos and his phone seemed to be set on embarrassing him.
You wanted to tease him. Or at least wrestle the aux cord from him for his own good.
He’d finally settled for just turning it off when Cyndi Lauper started playing.
Time after time, indeed, you thought with a snort.
“Cute,” you muttered, staring out the window, smiling hard, trying to let him save face and almost succeeding.
But after a few minutes, you turned and grabbed the aux cord, plugging it into your phone and playing what you considered ‘music for company’, aka not the 8 Mile soundtrack, which you were certain lurked in his saves.
You weren’t embarrassed by house music, though. And you enjoyed the knowing smile that crossed his face - something like ‘of course,’ clearly populating his brain.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
You were glad it was at least a night game. The temps would drop to something tolerable. LA heat could be brutal, after all.
The problem was - you hated baseball.
It was so boring.
The games you went to as a kid were basically you and a cousin running riot around the stadium - or just leaving and grabbing the train to do something better.
But this was a date that you initiated, to be fair, and the seats were good, as in not absolute nosebleeds.
You were close to the dugout, actually. You could hear the bat crack the ball now and then. But it wasn’t like soccer with fan chants, and it definitely wasn’t like football with everyone pounding everyone else. It was like sitting in another era…where talkies were all the rage and the radio was maybe leading young girls down a path of immorality. You pinched your arm to keep from laughing at the bizarre mental tableau you were building.
And seeing Seungcheol in civilian wear was almost awkward. You had just assumed he only appeared in compression shirts and officers’ slacks 24/7, waiting for a call. But no. Jeans, a t-shirt that was not as revealing as his gymwear, plus he was wearing an oversized button-down over his t-shirt (unbuttoned, at least), and a cap that was just the right amount of worn-in. He looked like the actual fan.
While you looked like you were cosplaying as a rabid fan.
He looked like he was watching with interest.
And you looked like you were practicing as an extra for a zombie movie - glassy eyes and minimal movement.
Which was something…you gave him a sideways glance, knowing it would just confirm that ‘yes - that was his jawline’…and wasn’t it kind of amazing? Yes, you answered silently.
But the silence couldn’t last.
“So, are you one of those guys who's annoyed if I ask questions about the game?” You had to ask - sitting in total quiet on a date was too bizarre.
He turned, brows scrunched like he’d heard the question and was confused why he was being asked it. “No.”
Nodding, you watched the batter approaching home plate. “Okay - the batter - is he any good?”
Seungcheol shrugged. “He’s okay, I think,” he mumbled.
“You think?” you asked, skepticism dripping.
He cleared his throat. “I like watching because it’s fun - I don’t go all in on stats and stuff…”
You gasped and pushed his shoulder lightly. “But you know enough to dunk on my Mets hat?”
He nodded, turning to look at you again, eyes wide with certainty. “Yes - they suck - full stop.”
You giggled at the intensity. “But you don’t know stats…”
“Even the most casual of casual fans would know they suck.”
“Mmhm, coming from a casual fan…” you muttered.
He shook his head. “I’m not that casual.”
You sighed and glanced at the Jumbotron as it flashed stats and cut to the field. You’d literally never listened to anything at a game as a kid, except the heckling - that was fun. You knew what a home run was…that was technically something.
“So, can I ask something?” he asked, voice light and interrupting the stampede of your own thoughts.
You nodded. “Yeah, it’s a date - questions are sort of the point,” you added.
“You wondered if you could ask sports questions?”
You huffed. “Yeah, because experience tells me men don’t like being bothered during their sport watching.”
“Date rules don’t trump sport watching in your world?”
You paused to consider and finally shook your head. “No, if anything it means sit back and prepare to be ignored for like two hours.”
“Wait - timeout - you’re telling me that your experience is being ignored on dates like this, and you were like ‘let’s go to a game’?” he asked, a small grin appearing.
Oh, no - he couldn’t be making mental leaps like whatever he was. “Okay, before you start thinking some boy thing—”
“What are boy things?” he interrupted.
You groaned. “You know, just like before you start telling yourself I was just so into you I’ll sit through a miserable activity or some similar macho nonsense—”
“You are literally sitting and dressed seriously for a thing you don’t like.”
You pursed your lips. “Be that as it may - okay - just accept that I may have a weird competitive streak at times that outruns anything else, and you were so smug—”
“I wasn’t smug - I was on duty—”
“Umhm, and judging how I dressed in a panic. And mentioning that I should fit in…”
He laughed. “I – yeah, fine, the yellow snow boots were something…and wearing that hat would be so random…”
You crossed your arms in a faux-sulk. “I love those boots - they’re technically Moon Boots, by the way, which are very cool. And I already explained the hat…”
He nodded, glancing at you, clearly smiling as he examined your state. “Fine, if we’re saying embarrassing things—”
“I’m not embarrassed about my footwear…”
He smirked. “Can I say my thing?”
You nodded, pressing a finger to your lips like you were in Kindergarten and needed to prove you’d be quiet.
He gave a soft shake of his head. “I didn’t really think the date would get this far,” he said, voice flat.
You felt your brows scrunch. “Wait - far as in?” You had to clarify.
He shrugged again. “I sort of thought you would cancel, well, no, actually I didn’t think you would call…”
Your brows went up.
“Why?” you asked, voice a little sharp.
He hummed, gaze flicking back to the game. “You seem a little out of my lane, I guess,” he mumbled.
Your brows scrunched together. “How?”
He looked back at the game for a moment. “Your LinkedIn reads very intensely, I guess,” he said with a small laugh.
You immediately felt heat in your face - you hadn’t even considered stalking LinkedIn. But you fully knew how your profile sounded…very accolade-heavy, and then there was your job that sounded oh-so-serious and was basically bullshit that you hated waking up for.
You nodded. “Right,” you mumbled, chewing your lip lightly, “sounds like the online stalking was mutual, then?”
“Seems like it…I just didn’t ‘heart’ things.”
You felt the way your head jerked at that and forced yourself to stare straight ahead. So what if you had hearted things?
A quiet settled between you and him. Not awkward silence, exactly. More like the normal quiet that sometimes comes in a conversation. You felt his knee brush yours - you watched for a moment to see if he pulled away…one Mississippi…two Mississippi…three Mississippi…you couldn’t help glancing every few seconds to see if it was still happening - the actual feeling of denim against your skin wasn’t enough - you needed the visual.
The silence didn’t last.
“So, besides thinking I’m smug, why come to a game you don’t like?” He asked, glancing at you, knee still touching yours.
You flushed - you needed to say something real. “Uh, honestly?”
“Yes, ideally.”
You grinned. “Right - ideally - uh, because I met you in person…and apps are so weird, so I decided I’d only talk to someone if I met them in the wild - plus you didn’t seem offended by me, generally, which is always a plus….”
He hummed again. The sound was soft, like he was registering the response for its quality.
“Apps are weird,” he agreed.
You nodded. “Right? Like, who wants to type a brick about themselves?”
“Everyone I work with,” he admitted.
You glanced with interest. “You?”
You watched the slight pink appear higher on his cheeks. “Not by choice,” he offered, looking away quickly.
You grinned, immediately opening your phone to do recon…post-recon, you wondered to yourself.
He was easy to find. You started to read his bio, but he was also sitting next to you. You bit your lip lightly, navigating around to your own profile, which you’d never completed.
An idea came to you, and you clicked into the questionnaire. “Okay, so instead of me creeping on what I feel like was perhaps a group effort for you,” you mumbled, glancing to see the way he was pointedly staring at the game, “maybe we go through some of the insane questions on my unfinished profile?” you offered, almost sounding excited.
It was at least distracting. And you found out that he really liked his job and that he lived in the fire station when he was on call. “Really? Don’t you miss your bed, though?” you’d leaned slightly closer, like it was the literal most interesting fact in the world.
He’d glanced at you and rolled his eyes. “Yes - sometimes, but it’s not bad,” he added.
You nodded, humming. “So what else do you do when you’re there?”
“Test stuff, repair things, go to meetings…” he glanced at you then as if to ask if he needed to go on.
“Do you commute?”
“Umhm.”
“Right.” You glanced at his knee that was still touching yours.
You didn’t really pay attention to the game. And even he didn’t seem to want to sit through the double-triple-heptagonal overtime. You’d followed him out of the stands and ended up looping your arm through his as you walked through the milling groups of people waiting for the bathrooms or picking up food. You’d squeezed closer to him whenever you felt like you might collide with some oncoming person.
And then you were finally in the massive parking lot, arm still looped through his as you walked to his parking space.
You were mostly glad to be out of the ballpark. You sighed when you were back in his car, almost happy to see the ducks staring at you in greeting.
You still didn’t poke them.
You listened to the car start, feeling the ambient heat wrestle with the first waves of the AC. “I liked the Cyndi Lauper,” you mumbled, staring out the window at some guy with face paint.
“Who doesn’t?” He asked, getting situated.
You were still watching the face-painter. “Lunatics?” you mused.
The ride home was easy.
It was late - traffic was almost nothing.
And then you were parked in the driveway. You would have normally popped out of a guy’s car so fast.
But you didn’t.
You stayed in the seat, feeling the weird liminal space of being in his Jeep - you were outside but also not...
“What’s with the ducks?” You couldn’t keep it in.
He glanced at them. “Uh, kind of a dumb Jeep thing - you see someone else, and you leave a duck and collect the ones people leave you.” He answered.
You stared for a moment. “That’s so…wholesome,” you sighed, turning to look at him.
He nodded, reaching to poke a duck back into its proper place.
You waited for him to turn back to you again. One-banana, two-banana, you counted internally.
“Seungcheol,” you whispered like his name was some secret phrase.
He looked. “Hmm?”
“Could we like maybe go out again?” you asked, gently nudging the duck butt of the pink duck.
He watched you for a moment, his intense baby-cow eyes on you, and nodded. “Yeah,” he confirmed.
You pursed your lips, pausing for the drama. “Like soon, maybe?”
“Should I bother trying to be cool and wait like two days or whatever to answer?” He asked, a smile building.
You tilted your head. “Please be joking,” you muttered.
He smiled - fucking dimples that did weird things to your brain appearing on cue. “Yeah, I’m—”
You cut him off, leaning across the console to kiss him.
It could have been quick. But you’d been thinking about it since the third inning.
His lips were warm - your fingers and hand pressed gently to his cheek. You weren’t expecting him to deepen it, to nip lightly at your lower lip - you breathed harder when he did, leaning closer, opening for him. Your fingers tangled in his short black hair - his hand came to your jaw, guiding you, tracing along the side of your neck and down to the center of your collarbones, until you needed to breathe, anyway.
You didn’t exactly want to stop.
You swallowed hard and gave his hair a gentle tug and got rewarded with a smirk and the reappearance of his dimples. You wanted to climb into the back seat…so high school of you.
You bit your tongue gently, deciding this shouldn’t be that - not yet, anyway.
“Message me?” you asked, as you gently poked his left dimple.
“Yeah.” It was so simple - the way he gazed at you as he answered, his voice breathy - the way he didn’t push for more, even though you hadn’t let go, even though his fingers were still tracing just under your collarbone, teasing the neckline of the jersey.
You pressed the bridge of your nose to his, letting your lips barely graze his before you pulled back and shifted back to your own seat.
And then you had to get out. Because staying would have been a weird choice.
You were almost inside when you stopped to wave to him - then you slipped inside, messaging him as you walked upstairs.
[y/n]
ur sweet and it was fun
[y/n]
let me kno u get home pls
[choi.s]
home now
it was fun
ttyl?
[y/n]
you better
i know where u wrk
[choi.s]
another threat?
[y/n]
maybe
first one worked out pretty well 💅
andd it would be fun to see you come down a pole…
✦•┈๑⋅… 4 …·๑┈•✦
Cleaning the mess hall was not Seungcheol’s favorite, but it meant he could keep thinking about his date without Mingyu’s interjections. Not that they were terrible, exactly. He just wanted it to be in his brain for a little while longer - just him with the details of how good you looked in a jersey - the most bored super fan in the world. He had to pause wiping down a table and force the smile that was forming into something more neutral.
He couldn’t walk around looking happy - someone would notice. It wasn’t just Mingyu who tried to set him up. Soonyoung had once stared at him from across the table at lunch and suggested his own sister…the same sister who assumed any calls from Soonyoung were butt-dials.
He needed to look stern. He tried thinking about something serious…a graph? Graphs were usually serious…and boring. Graphs didn’t leave their knees touching his. Graphs would not have put up with any of that - graphs would have clutched pearls and called him ‘forward’…you hadn’t, though. You’d pressed your knee slightly to his…your knees were nice too, and your legs…he should be thanking whoever invented shorts.
“Dude!”
Seungcheol turned around. “What? Sorry…”
Mingyu grinned and pushed Soonyoung’s arm. “Told you - he finally ended his drought.”
“No, he looks spaced out and dopey even when he hasn’t gotten laid,” Soonyoung said, voice matter-of-fact.
Seungcheol glared at Mingyu for a moment…he’d clearly told Soonyoung. He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about the fact that there had been a date. Mingyu was taller, but that had never really stopped Seungcheol from tackling him before or putting him in a hold that would make him tap out.
Mingyu held up his hands. “He noticed the follow on Insta - I was under duress - I swear,” he said it as he was slowly moving to stand behind Soonyoung. Like Soonie was a serious block.
Seungcheol started to circle the table. Mingyu jumped slightly. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Who else did you accidentally tell?”
“No one…basically,” Mingyu reassured, walking backwards, putting a long table between himself and Seungcheol.
Seungcheol shook his head, not accepting that little ‘basically’ Mingyu added.
“Jeonghan knows - he thinks you have a plus one,” Soonyoung said, stepping out of Seungcheol’s way.
Seungcheol’s eyes widened. “The fuck?”
Mingyu shrugged. “It just…we were in chat, and everyone noticed the hot girl follow—” and then Mingyu was running.
Seungcheol scrunched his face. “I know where you sleep!”
Mingyu flipped him off as he kept going. Seungcheol rolled his eyes. “He better fucking run home.”
He turned to find Soonyoung still there. “Okay, but for real, inquiring minds and all…” Soonyoung said with a crazy forced smile…like that was convincing anyone.
Seungcheol shook his head. “No. Fuck off - aren’t you supposed to be washing something?”
“Did it. Wrote a book about it. Sorry, but Mingyu told us about the toast and the hat and—”
“So, he ran his mouth? I don’t have to corroborate any of it. In fact, you all - we’re not friends for the rest of shift - I’m the captain on duty - fuck off somewhere.” He crossed his arms and did his best ‘eat shit’ face.
And Soonyoung just walked closer until he reached up and squished Seungcheol’s cheeks. “I know that works on the recruits, but seriously,” he squished Seungcheol’s cheek harder, “I’ve known you too long for it to really have the same effect. Besides, you’ll spill the beans eventually and be annoyingly cute and shit - so fine, I’ve got an audiobook...” he said it like it was the biggest fucking deal to be listening to some murder mystery while he vacuumed.
But he did finally stop squishing Seungcheol’s cheeks like the most intense eomma on the planet. “There’s a second date, though, right?”
Seungcheol just stared in response, eyebrow arched in annoyance because Soonie couldn’t actually be fishing for fucking details. Apparently, some things still worked on Soonyoung since he backed away then. “I’ll just assume the stony face means ‘yes’…” he declared as he walked away.
Seungcheol didn’t care, but he checked the gc. Why was all his shit somehow always in there, he wondered, scrolling…fucking Mingyu.
He slept off and on that night - no emergencies, at least - and left for home the next morning. He’d mostly not talked to his friends until the 0800 shift swap. But he also knew it was kind of dumb to be mad at them when they were just happy for him - happy idiots. He’d finally broken when they were playing pool against each other. He hadn’t told them about knees touching or anything, but he’d admitted that there had been a kiss. And it was like being attacked by two oversized dogs with way too many questions about what kind of kiss it was. What was the pressure like? How long did it lasttt? Where were your hands?!
Fucking idiots. His idiots.
He was sitting in the parking lot now, though. Costco. His own version of a zombie apocalypse…too crowded, everyone for themselves, shoving, crying…nightmare stuff.
He felt his phone buzz…you. You, whose day was just starting. You who looked really sexy in shorts and a jersey and had definitely made out with him…still talking to him…the same him who’d still been hard about the makeout when he’d gotten home after the game. He’d had the briefest, tiniest urge to send you a dick pic after the game and something about it being your fault.
Why did he feel like you would be down for a dick pic? Constant flow of messages? But you hated online dating…but you didn’t seem to hate him. And he still wasn’t sure what that kind of photo would do. He’d snapped a bathroom selfie the day before, after lifting…shirt up, abs and arms. He smirked, knowing you were hating work at that very moment…his thumb hovered over the photo…you’d literally liked every single thirst trap…this was thirstier?
Then the message popped up.
[y/n]
so jealous ur at costco during the day
He snorted, closing his eyes, letting it really sink in that you were talking about his Costco run. He leaned forward, letting his forehead rest on the steering wheel. He was going to send a thirst trap to someone who wanted to talk about Costco…No. Shit. He couldn’t, right?
[choi.s]
u mean the most calustrophic store on earth?
[y/n]
gots to love it
[choi.s]
i don’t tho
dread it is more accurate
[y/n]
that’s the beauty
stock up
[choi.s]
i have like one closet
[y/n]
just be more efficient
[choi.s]
is this where i say smth dumb abt efficiency and get to see u again
[y/n]
you dun have to say anything dumb
i already asked
[choi.s]
right
u keep doing that
[y/n]
be faster next time
[choi.s]
what’s faster for u
asking for a thrid date now
[y/n]
i do like like a schedule
[choi.s]
dinner?
[y/n]
when
second date or third
[choi.s]
when says grl w worst schedule ever
2nd
[y/n]
when asks grl who will try very hard to make it work even if slightly dead
[choi.s]
tell me when works
[y/n]
thurs??
[choi.s]
yes
[y/n]
ayeeee sweet - date 2
dinner consisting of 1 dead grl & 1 pretty boy
[choi.s]
date 3
[y/n]
let me check
[choi.s]
srsly?
[y/n]
i mean...yeah
˚⟡˖ ࣪
He’d made it through Costco and back home. He shoved the cold things in his fridge quickly, and went upstairs to get Kkuma. He didn’t like to be late picking her up after his shifts. Mrs. Lee was already way too nice for keeping Kkuma as often as she did - she was practically a second home for the little white fuzz ball.
Precious white fuzz ball, he corrected himself as he caught his hand on the bannister leading to the second floor, smooth wood gliding under his hand.
He knew Mrs. Lee loved her “Kkuma time.” She even took Kkuma to the dog groomer sometimes - she’d gifted Kkuma a rain jacket for walks and little knitted doggie sweaters when the weather started to shift - “she needs some extra warmth.” Which, they all went along with the bow clips Seungcheol bought to keep Kkuma’s bangs out of her eyes...he winced at the door - he maybe did too much as a dog-Dad.
He knocked on the heavy wooden door - not his normal ‘official’ knuckle rapping, the soft, polite knocks of a neighbor. He appreciated the sound of knocking against old wood, though - it was one of the nice things about living in a building from like the 1920s. Wooden doors and noisy pipes and weirdly good layouts.
The door swung open to reveal Mrs. Lee, already up, awake, and dressed, wearing a massive sun visor that made her have to literally tilt her head fully skyward to see him.
“Seungcheol - we’re going for walkies now, you go home and rest,” she said in that clipped way that always made him smile.
“I’m home, though - I can take her.” He didn’t reach for Kkuma’s lead. He knew when he wasn’t going to win with Mrs. Lee. He still made his attempts, though.
“Ah, we already decided, walkies now, and then after some dilly-dally time in the park, we’ll find Dad, right, Kkuma?” She disappeared completely from his view as she looked down to confer with Seungcheol’s very pampered dog. He nodded to the visor as Mrs. Lee continued cooing over Kkuma, knowing Mrs. Lee and Kkuma would do the half-mile to the park on Golden Ave. and do some route through on the trails he could never exactly replicate on his own, much to Kkuma’s chagrin.
He still felt like he was imposing. “What if I go with you?”
The visor was suddenly up, and Mrs. Lee was staring at him with concern. “Don’t you need sleep? Besides, we have fun.”
“I know - I know, but I like the park too…” And he already felt bad for being late, even if this was his shopping day. He tried to stick to his schedule.
She seemed to weigh whether he actually liked the park and finally nodded. “Okay. Fine. We’ll have girls time another morning.”
And then they were off at the particular breakneck pace that only LA county crosswalk signals managed to slow. It was brisk as fuck. And she nudged him whenever he started to check his phone when they were stalled at a street corner.
“This is walkies time - check your phone at home - you know, where there are not idiot drivers who pay no attention to pedestrians - you’ll be a pancake, and then it will just be me and Kkuma.”
He nodded and smiled and put his phone away. “Sorry,” he mumbled, catching up to her.
She hit his arm when he started to reach for his phone again at the next crosswalk - he knew your messages would pile up - he’d have to back-read…
“So who is she?” Mrs. Lee asked, voice full of certainty.
“It could be a he…” he didn’t know why he’d said that.
“Maybe, but I’ve only heard about ‘shes’ so far.”
He snorted. “Yeah, I – am I that obvious?”
“I like to think I know you somewhat, but you do get twitchy with your phone when there’s someone - and you’re extra twitchy - is it serious?”
She was worse than Mingyu and Soonyoung. He would take ‘describe the pressure of the kiss’ for $800 now. “Uh, I don’t know, actually - we’ve only been on one date so far…”
“But you’re still talking away? How many days ago was the date?”
“Almost a week.” He hadn’t even had to think about it.
She looked up at him with her knowing smile. “You like this one.”
He couldn’t lie - he didn’t need to. “I do—”
“But you’re thinking some silly thing that probably has never even crossed her mind?” she asked, interrupting any qualifiers Seungcheol might have given.
He could have rolled his eyes, but that would be rude…and Mrs. Lee probably had a point. They were already crossing into the park. “She just has a different kind of job,” he said it like it was a question - he wasn’t even sure exactly what his hang-up was at this point.
“What is she?” She barely paused before answering her own question. “A stripper? They make money, too…”
He laughed, covering his mouth quickly. “No - no…like corporate stuff.”
“Oh, she makes good money then?” she asked, rubbing her thumb against her fingers like someone from a film talking about ‘moola.’
“Probably.” He could only guess. He didn’t even know what number of dates were required for things like finances to be discussed.
“Good for her. What’s the problem? You make money, she makes money, buy a nice place and fill it with babies, then I can spoil them and Kkuma.”
“I don’t think we’re that far along—”
“You never know, maybe she’s already decided. I decided before my husband - he was like you, dumb ideas about things - I fixed that, though. We were married for 42 happy years,” she said it with a soft sigh and a smile.
Seungcheol grinned, fully certain that Mrs. Lee had fixed every problem that had come her way. Besides, he’d had dinner with her before, and he’d seen all the photos of the happy couple that decorated the apartment. “Things can happen, though,” he mumbled.
She shrugged. “Maybe, but you should be confident - you’re a nice boy - you keep a nice place - you have a job that keeps you in shape…those things matter more than you think.”
He shrugged, toeing the grass. “I met her because her fire alarm went off,” he admitted, glancing at the small figure next to him.
“Was it her fault?”
“Her roommate’s cooking experiment,” he said, remembering the toast.
“Sounds like she’s the responsible one, then.”
He hadn’t even thought about that. No, he’d been debating whether a gym selfie was right…he hummed.
“She asked me out.” He could feel the slight tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
“She wasn’t messing about then.”
He smiled. “We went to see the Dodgers, and she doesn’t even like baseball,” he said with a smile and shake of his head.
“Hmm, she’ll go do something she doesn’t like to spend time with you - doesn’t sound so bad so far.”
“She said not to think that—”
“That means you should.” Mrs. Lee patted his arm. “And she won’t disappear because you take time to go on walkies with Kkuma – you know how I know?” She looked up at him again and made a vague swirling motion with her hand like she was plucking the answer from behind his ear - for the drama, he knew. “Because your phone keeps making that little buzz-BUZZ sound, even I can hear it - you’ll go home to 30 messages,” she said with a smile, patting his arm again.
“It could be work,” he mumbled.
“They’d call.”
✦•┈๑⋅… 5 …·๑┈•✦
It was Thursday. You’d made it. You’d made it through most of the day anyway. And you hadn’t cancelled your date. Which was…you were a little concerned. Not because you didn’t want to go. You really, really did. It was literally what you kept reminding yourself of, that and triple-checking your messages that it was definitely today and not some other Thursday.
It was more like the idea of going home to locate an outfit that wasn’t a set of matching PJs was starting to feel less and less doable. You’d even had one of the gross ginger root shots - vile, by the way. And only semi-effective. You tried to shake it off - it was tapas! Tapas didn’t call for three hours of hair and makeup…and Seungcheol didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would be looking for that on a Thursday night anyway.
You couldn’t look like shit.
But jeans were probably fine. And you were leaving on time, even if you had to sneak out, which you didn’t think you’d need to, but you did take a few trips to hide in the stairwell when you thought someone might be approaching to ask for something extra. You left your sweater on your chair, though - the universal for ‘she’s still here - check back.’
You were currently on a stairwell sojourn, drinking a coffee from the break room and trying to mentally picture what non-work clothes were clean…and cute. There were jeans, and maybe an oversized rugby shirt? That was more chill vibes…less ‘I’ve had 32 shots of espresso so far this week.’ Your heart rate was basically the same as a hummingbird’s. You had this cute top that wrapped somehow, but that was giving like spring day or something. You looked up the restaurant again - it was cute and a little more sleek. Jeans and a blue Oxford shirt - white undershirt…shoes? You mentally swiped left on several pairs…you had these mules you’d been wanting to wear, so maybe those. And your hair was in good shape, so some touch-ups to your makeup and a quick wardrobe change were probably all you needed.
You were taking the metro anyway. You were not staring down any level of traffic. He had the day off. He’d offered to meet somewhere near you, but you hadn’t wanted that - you’d already done the date that was nearer to you.
You pressed your lips into a thin line - what if the date was very near him, you wondered. Would it be weird? Would he say if it were…you had no idea. You were meeting at his apartment and walking to the restaurant. Maybe it was time to see if you were already going to be disappointing for him? Rip off that particular band-aid earlier instead of trying to hold out and appear cool…
You hit dial and waited…there were more rings than normal. It was an Instagram call, though. The things people generally assumed were mistakes because they were. “Hi?” Ugh, his voice - so hot.
“Hi,” you said, checking over the railing to see if anyone else had popped in.
“We should swap numbers,” he said abruptly.
You smiled. “Yeah, it does feel a little fake, right?”
“A little…but what’s up?”
You hummed. “I’m that transparent, huh - uhhh,” you sighed and glanced around at the weird gray and orange walls. “Can I ask a favor?”
“You can ask anything…”
You felt the stupid grin that created. “Right, I can - um, tonight, could we maybe do take-away and just like hang out?” You scrunched your eyes closed, waiting to see if there was some massive sigh of annoyance. You were so used to the massive, long sighs.
“You mean not go out?”
“Yeah…that.” You held your breath slightly.
“So no loud people and no standing in line…”
You brightened slightly - he didn’t sound disappointed. “Umhm.”
“Yeah, we can do that.”
You smiled, laughing softly. “You’d rather stay in?”
“Almost always.”
You were still grinning. “Cute.”
“Usually I get ‘boring,’ but I’ll take ‘cute.’ Do you want me to meet you at the metro stop? I could place the order from there…”
You leaned against the wall, grinning harder somehow - of course, he would meet you at your stop - that was simply what one did in Seungcheol-world. “Yeah, that – that would be really nice,” you answered, voice softer.
There was a soft pause. “So good day?”
You scrunched your face. “Okay day,” you muttered, picking at your sleeve.
“‘Okay’ isn’t bad, though, right?”
“Right.”
Another beat of quiet, just him on the other end of the line, and you in the stairwell.
“Tell me when the metro does the loop at Downtown?”
It started to sink in - he was really going to meet you, like be waiting for you. “I will.”
“Good.”
Another small beat that you could have counted in banana increments but didn’t.
“Byeee.”
“Bye.”
You ended the call and groaned - he was lucky you hadn’t said ‘bye’ like five more times. You watched his message bubble pop up…and his actual number appear. You shook your head softly - disbelief washing through your brain that he was still sweet. Changes like not going out had been major issues before. It was nice that it wasn’t. Really, really, really, infinity times nice. And you’d still wear the same basic outfit - maybe the rugby shirt was back in the running, though.
You added his number and messaged him so he had yours. He was right that it felt less fake to have actually - finally - exchanged numbers. You watched the little heart react appear on your number. Had you maybe made his day by not wanting to go out? Maybe you’d finally found an introvert…you did tend to look at MBTIs on apps…and always pick the ‘E’ types, even though you were always annoyed when they were constantly ‘E’-ing. Maybe you needed an ‘I’ - maybe you were an ‘I.’ You searched for a quick MBTI quiz as you walked back to your desk.
No reason you couldn’t check.
˚⟡˖ ࣪࣪
You’d managed to leave at exactly 5:00 PM. And traffic was…whatever. It was more when you got home and needed to change that things became a little annoying. You knew roughly what you wanted to wear, like you had it narrowed - it was just a quick change. Except no, it wasn’t because Rei was in a mood to follow you around like a lost puppy from the moment you entered the house.
“Do you really have to go out?” she whined.
You’d found your jeans - now the shirt debate - rugby shirt or Oxford shirt…one had, well, no, they both had some buttons. And you were largely ignoring your roommate. She whined often, if not daily, about something. To your mind, it was maybe that she literally lived the kind of charmed life that was practically a satire of itself. And really, by ‘charmed’ you meant her Dad was richer than ‘as fuck’ could even start to describe. Which was fine mostly - you’d been roommates since your first year of college - year two had just meant that she invited you to live off campus at ‘one of’ her Dad’s places and you paid practically nothing. It’d been amazing because you had just a little bit more than nothing as a student - so it mathed.
It had mathed less and less since then. Especially on a night like this.
“Yes, I want to go, so chill out.” You’d already pulled on a white cropped tank top and your jeans of choice before she’d even barged in…you had also maybe taken a moment to pick cuter panties and a semi-matching bralette, which were details you could and possibly would take to your grave.
“Oh, come on - didn’t you already do the nasty? Why go all the way to Long Beach? It can’t be that good,” she said, her voice husky enough in that almost movie star way that came so close to making it feel like cute banter from a friend, instead of something totally asinine.
You rounded on her. “The nasty? Are you 13? And a boy?”
She shrugged. “For real, come onnn, stay in - I have weed and drinks, and there’s a million Love Island episodes…I reelly should have gotten that call back,” she concluded, doing the thing where she started dragging out her vowels weirdly to sound ‘posh’ before she flopped onto your bed.
You were fairly certain she hadn’t gotten the call back because she’d gone to the casting call not just with a hangover, but still literally drunk. Even Love Island casting had limits, apparently. Or just an insurance issue.
“Look, I just think that it was a laugh and now you should come back to normal life - stay in or go out with me because there is a party tonight and it’s supposed to be like everyone - EVERYone - is going - so you should go too…” she was still lying on your bed, messing with your duvet.
“What so I can be your boring friend in the corner?” That sounded harsher than you wanted, but you also really wanted to figure out your shirt problem…the Oxford looked good, almost sexy because you could control the number of buttons...
“You’re not boring - not that boring, anyway - but you’re my wing…girl, come onnn, don’t make me go alone,” she pleaded again.
You shook your head. “I’m busy tonight.” You were busy almost every night, actually. She’d never seemed to notice that.
“No, you’re heading off towards a night of additional boredom for some reason I can’t work out.”
You were going with the Oxford shirt with a white tank underneath - you headed to the bathroom, touched up your makeup, brushed your teeth…anything else? You stared around. Nothing. Still nothing. Shirt could go on now. No danger of getting stuff on it…
You walked out from the bathroom, grabbed your shirt and bag and decided quickly on some light pink Doc Martens because…walking - fuck - you needed cute socks - you sighed…grabbed some white socks with a cherry pattern, cuffed the hems of your jeans so you didn’t look like a - whatever the fuck - you didn’t care - you needed to catch the metro, not edit your internal monologue.
You stood up and found Rei slightly too close to you. This was getting fucking bonkers.
“Look - I don’t know how to tell you this,” you said it almost gently, as you grabbed her hands and held them like you reelly gave a shit in the moment - she was technically an old friend. “I like him - so stop being mean, and call someone else, okay? Love you, but seriously, I am busy,” you said it all in your best client service tone and with roughly the same forced smile.
And then you walked out.
She definitely followed you and continued like you had barely spoken. Wasn’t she the one who wanted you to start dating? You were out the door - it didn’t matter.
But you downloaded an apartment finder app as you found a spot on the metro car. It was probably time to think about finding your own place - not just time, more akin to long overdue.
You swiped around the map looking for places that looked interesting - none of the giant all-inclusive places - that was definitely not you…you wanted something that felt like it had some history, at least. Or just didn’t look like a cube of cubes, maybe?
Seungcheol had sent some menus that you swapped to. He recommended any of the places, leaving it up to you. You saw a curry and felt your mouth water slightly…he was serious, right?
You messaged for a few minutes about an order at the Curry House. And you figured out that he was serious - he did like it - just nothing super spicy for him.
A fact which you filed away as you heard the bing-bong for Downtown and messaged ‘at downtown.’ And feeling slightly shit…but you left that out. If you waited until you weren’t tired or weren’t stressed, you’d basically be a nun before you could see him again.
Still, it wasn’t the most auspicious start.
˚⟡˖ ࣪࣪
But you hadn’t wanted some Insta-perfect night, anyway. Kind of the opposite.
Plus, when you glanced out the window and saw him literally waiting, it was - you couldn’t help the dopey grin your face was suddenly arranging itself into…at least he was also wearing jeans and this like knit sweater that was like the nice boy version of his gym shirts. And you were thinking of all the thirst traps…seriously, his upper body, generally, was enough to send you spiraling, but why did his jeans show off his ass so well?…you wondered if it was too soon to touch it.
Probably.
Probably too soon to reveal that side of yourself…the absolute horn-dog side.
Besides, he was waiting. And didn’t look impatient or annoyed. You almost waved like a loon but tamped it down. It wasn’t like you’d traveled the world or been to war and only conversed via letters from the literal trenches…it’d been like a week. Even if he was looking kind of extra gorgeous by just showing up.
You worked your way towards the doors of the train car and walked out quickly in case any tourists had the idea to stampede. You walked to him, giving a small wave as you crossed your arms against the gentle wind that had started to pick up. He had his phone open, ready to order, just like he’d said.
You made it to him. “Hey,” you offered, still trying to control the stupid grin that wanted to take over your face - why was he so - whatever he was, you wondered as you noticed the wind barely tossing his hair. Thank the sky gods you were still at least wearing sunglasses and preserving some semblance of calm as you watched the insane display that Mother Nature was putting on for you. At least until he leaned in and kissed your cheek quickly before returning your ‘hey’ as he leaned away.
You smiled then. It was – exactly what you needed. You moved closer and looped your arm through his like you had when you’d been leaving the game the last time. “So was that like how you greet your Grandma and I should ignore it or—”
“No, it was like I – it felt right?” he asked, the slightest glint of concern somewhere deep in his eyes.
You nodded and squeezed his upper arm. “So which way is food?” you asked, voice soft - you leaned on his shoulder, confirming the kiss was right…because leaning on him also felt right.
It wasn’t a long walk. Maybe ten minutes. Which was just enough time for Seungcheol to decide that it was better if his arm was around your waist and that kissing you quickly on the temple while waiting for the lights at crosswalks to change was completely normal.
They were small kisses. Chaste pecks that meant you kept smiling and everything else from the day seemed like it had happened in another lifetime. You’d taken the metro and exited into some new territory not previously known, and there was still curry.
The line was quick.
But you still leaned on his shoulder, wondering slightly if you were about to have curry and maybe pick up where you’d left off? Not a bad idea…or maybe eat delicious curry and poke around his bathroom and then make out like horny teens once you established that he knew what Q-tips were - so many tantalizing options. You were spoiled for choice.
Besides, the walk back to his place was a bit calmer - you were heading away from other people, plus he had precious cargo now…curry and butter chicken and daal. None of that stopped your hand finding his free one - your fingers lacing easily with his as you walked a bit faster, which only made him laugh because ‘you don’t know the building.’ Which…fair. You didn’t.
“So tell me if I’m hot or cold,” you offered, walking past a crosswalk near an apartment complex, feeling him pull you back.
“Freezing cold,” he said with a smile, pulling your hand closer to his side as he watched for the light to change.
You groaned. “So where is it?”
“Close - like the next block, but it’s a shorter building—”
“Oh, shorter?” You couldn’t help being curious. Almost no one talked about being in a shorter building.
He nodded. “There’s ivy and stuff,” he added.
“In LA?”
He was still staring at the light, and you were staring at him, watching the smile that teased the corner of his mouth. “Well, in Long Beach there’s ivy,” he clarified, tearing his eyes away from the light for a moment, his smirk definitely teasing.
You had the urge to bite his shoulder in retaliation. Instead, you squeezed his hand and started off across the street at a faster pace the moment the light changed. It was one hundred percent faster than you had any business going. But you had two things to look for, though - it was shorter, and there was ivy - it’d stick out like a sort of big green thumb.
And it did…in the best way.
You paused when you found it, staring at the short brick building with the surprising cornices and the almost completely ivy-covered front…it even trailed to one side. It was just sandwiched between these two boring concrete blobs. And it had this massive wooden main door, and balconies that included fire escapes…it wasn’t what you’d imagined at all. You’d kind of assumed something cube-y - guys usually went with cube-y…past guys, old guys, not-Seungcheol-guys. They all liked the cube, especially when the cube had a basketball court listed as an amenity. This place, though, was the kind of place you loved finding, not just leftover from another era, but that someone had bothered to keep.
You were possibly enthralled. He had to pull your hand to get you moving again.
“Come on,” he mumbled, leading you down the side of the building to a set of covered side entrances with a privacy gate. You tried to imagine what search prompt he entered into which app to find this place. You’d seen guesthouses, cube apartments, and absolutely nothing was this interesting.
He managed to get you inside, which was maybe a mistake - in that once your shoes were off, you padded around behind him, staring at everything, especially a large Shinchan plush that peeked out from the edge of what looked like a loft. You glanced at it as you passed by to go to the kitchen with him…you would find out why the Shinchan seemed to be hiding. But also, how did a studio have a small kitchen, a full bathroom, and a washer and dryer at the back?
Otherwise, the standouts were the very gorgeous cognac brown leather sofa in the main room, the use of lamps instead of the Big Light™, and the fact that there was hardwood throughout that was somehow highlighted by the rug choices - saturated colors on a sort of warm pecan floor. It was coherent - and there were hand towels and soap dispensers. It was like a functioning human occupied the space and had tastes and preferences.
Brave new world, indeed.
You used the bathroom just to admire the fact that the soap dispenser had soap in it…but it also made the Shinchan more appealing. Because Seungcheol had only gestured to the loft and said it was the bedroom…but why was Shinchan out of the way, you wondered as you breathed in the lavender hand soap before rinsing and drying your hands. You stayed for a moment and checked out the small collection of face things and some cologne and one small framed piece of art that reminded you of something sort of like graffiti…and then you left before it was clear you were an absolute snoop of the highest order.
But the entire apartment was certainly planting a little hopeful seed in your mind that you could find a place - maybe you just needed to ask the person who’d managed to find this little gem…he was literally standing next to you, unpacking curry and asking whether you wanted a bowl or a plate.
“You have both?” you asked, not even trying to hide your smirk.
He rolled his eyes. “Are you also going to be shocked when I have actual silverware and not just a drawer of leftover takeaway spoons and forks?”
You nodded. “Naturally - I’ll fall over if you have glassware, too.”
He shook his head, smiling and reaching for a cupboard to open it - water glasses, juice glasses, and mugs - oh my!
You laughed at the display. “Oh, Choi Seungcheol, you know how to make a girl weak,” you mumbled and kissed his cheek. You were surprised when he turned, his lips catching yours gently - gently for a moment - gently until you felt his arm around your waist and the kiss deepening. He pulled away so slowly.
“All my pots and pans have their original lids, too,” he whispered, voice low, the slightest waggle of his brows.
“So sexy,” you answered, finally taking a bowl from him and helping yourself to the lovely curry and rice and naan that looked like it might reset your biological age to childhood.
You ate in the living room at the table in front of the sofa.
It was comfortable and easy. And the music he picked was markedly different - he’d asked about music vaguely a few days before and got you to admit that you did like jazz.
You stared at the phone for a moment, wondering what else he’d gently wangled out of you…the sneaky sneak. It was another tally under the column of ‘he is sexy,’ though…and maybe even went under the column of ‘he likes me.’
“So how was the metro?”
You hummed. “Normal, but my standards are at sea level - as long as I’m not driving, it’s acceptable.”
“So it could have smelled like the inside of a gym bag?”
“I’d still take it…” you admitted, voice flat.
“But plates and bowls?”
You winced. “Look, I’ve found myself in places where a spork would have been a delight?”
“Hence avoiding apps?”
“Precisely why I avoid apps…and anyone my roommate suggests - I’ve learned - that’s almost always for the bit,” you mumbled.
“Really?”
You nodded, glancing at him. “You know, don’t you have one of those friends who like 80% of their existence is so they can have a story to tell?”
He watched you with slightly wide eyes. “No.”
You pushed his shoulder. “Bully for you - seriously, no one who commits too hard to some bullshit?” you asked, clarifying, and sipping your beer.
You could see the crack starting to form as he mentally flipped through some friendship Rolodex. “Yeah, okay, okay…I wouldn’t live with any of them, though.”
“No?”
He shook his head emphatically and popped more chicken into his mouth.
You nodded. “Probably smart. It was fine before, but I think I should maybe branch out,” you said, swiping curry up with your naan.
“Like move?” he asked, glancing at you.
“Yeah…like it’s her Dad’s, so you know, cheap rent, but I don’t want to put out toast fires anymore.”
He scrunched his brows. “Please say you don’t have more toast on your lawn…”
You smiled. “No - you would have heard.”
He sighed and leaned back against the sofa, his head tipping back onto the seat for a moment. He groaned, rubbing his stomach for a moment and finally leaning up, glancing at you.
“That good?”
He nodded. “Perfect…”
You grinned and went back to your own food and your sour beer because he’d remembered that you liked sours. And when he picked up some beer, he apparently saw them…and now you had special sour beer sitting in his fridge.
You turned. “So what about you? Your day?”
He shrugged. “Mostly quiet,” he answered with a sigh.
Glancing again, you wondered if it was really that quiet.
He smiled. “Sometimes everything is quiet - shifts are quiet besides normal dumb things.”
Of course you rounded on that. “Normal dumb things?”
He grinned. “I helped Soonyoung film a dance challenge…”
Everything stopped for a moment so you could locate the dance challenge and confirm that Seungcheol was not visible in the video.
“Disappointed?”
“No, it would have been cute, though…another side to you, and all that,” you said, locking your phone and putting it away.
“I don’t think competent dancing is one of the sides,” he murmured, still leaning against the sofa.
You were almost finished eating. “I didn’t say you needed to be competent—”
“No, but to me, definitely required,” he said, voice soft.
It was quiet for a moment.
“But, for you, quiet and silly things mean a good day - nothing serious?”
He hummed. “Yeah, all quiet is the best case.”
It was weird to think about the number of times something was referred to as a ‘fire drill’ in your office, all because Ted or Kevin or whoever was just really shit at client communications. And it was also weird to think that someone you knew actively did something risky for work. You didn’t especially want to think about it…instead, you leaned on the sofa and smoothed his bangs off his forehead. He really, genuinely, had annoyingly clear skin - you weren’t sure you could even spot a pore.
“You’re like safe, though, right?”
His eyes barely opened. “Worried?”
You glanced away for a moment before finding his gaze again. “Apparently,” you murmured, your fingers tracing along his jaw.
“Just assume dance videos unless…I say it’s not dance videos - or admin - there’s always admin,” he sighed.
You leaned against him, then, letting the quiet come back. You had no idea when your brain had decided that worrying for Seungcheol was an active thing running in the background. But you’d said it, so it must be.
˚⟡˖ ࣪࣪
You helped with carrying things back to the kitchen. You dawdled, going to the bathroom to check your hair for a few minutes before you made your way back through the small kitchen to the main room. Seungcheol was on the sofa - you paused for a moment in the hallway, noticing the back of his neck…what if you kissed him there in passing? He’d kissed you already…you tilted your head, considering and decided the angle wasn’t right. Annoying.
So you walked back out to the living room, to your sour beer, and your…Seungcheol, flicking through movies to watch.
You dropped next to him, happily feeling the sofa and the way it held you. There was a blanket and throw pillows. You ignored them in favor of his arm sliding around your waist and pulling you close, so you could lean against him, your cheek against his chest. You let your arm snake around his waist.
“So why is Shinchan hiding?” you asked.
“Hmm?” he glanced down at you from the projected screen.
You pointed up towards the loft. “Shinchan?”
His eyes followed your finger. “It’s nothing.”
You sighed. “Definitely something then.”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Are you embarrassed?”
“No,” he said flatly.
You grinned at the ‘no,’ your fingers tracing along his side, feeling the smooth muscle under the buttery soft knit fabric. “Totally embarrassed,” you mumbled, nuzzling closer against his chest.
“No - he - it doesn’t go with stuff,” he mumbled.
You couldn’t help smiling, feeling like you’d won, just a bit.
Shinchan definitely went with things…
You let your fingers trace up until you felt his ribs - you could hear the longer pauses on various movie trailers. You bit your lower lip gently.
There were only two small lamps on because movies…
“Seungcheol,” you murmured.
He hummed again.
“What if you found lo-fi or something?” you asked - voice truly, hand on heart, innocent as the driven snow, as you glanced up at him.
There was a pause. “Why?” he asked, looking down at you, gaze focused like he was sizing you up.
You shrugged. “Long day,” you whispered - your bottom lip barely catching between your teeth.
He hummed, but it was a lower tone this time. “Long day?” he echoed.
You nodded, letting your fingers shift and splay over his stomach. “So long…”
You watched him swallow and glance quickly at the screen, changing apps and scrolling for maybe three seconds before there was some vaporwave aesthetic moving screen saver and lo-fi playing.
You giggled when you felt your back hit the sofa.
And the way his lips immediately went to your throat, kissing and sucking gently, then licking and biting his way lower. You hummed, enjoying that he might have been thinking about this exact kind of moment. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you moaned softly - your fingers catching in his hair, pulling gently when he slid the collar of your shirt to the side and placed a line of wet kisses along your clavicle. You pulled his hair roughly, wanting his lips on yours. He leaned up with a soft moan, lips finding yours, biting gently, deepening it. Your hand slid down the neck of his shirt, your nails barely making little half moons against his skin as he licked into you. You felt his hand tracing along your thigh - you rolled your hips up against his…
And then his phone beeped.
He leaned up quickly, checking it. “Shit,” he mumbled.
“What’s wrong?”
He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “I need to walk Kkuma.”
Your brows went up, still uncertain. “Kkuma?”
“My dog – she’s with my neighbor,” he said with a groan.
You smiled. “Seriously?”
You could see the pink blooming higher on his cheeks.
“I just - I wasn’t sure how you’d feel…maybe she’d be too much,” he said with a shrug.
You hummed and reached up, smoothing the mess that you’d both made of his hair. “It’s okay - you hid Shinchan, too,” you said with a grin. “Poor Seungcheol,” you murmured, letting your fingers trace along his jaw. “So thoughtful and handsome,” you added.
His hand caught yours gently, kissing the backs of your fingers before he sat up. He glanced at you with a smile. “Maybe I just wanted to fuck,” he said with a shrug.
You giggled - like he could be that nonchalant - the man who had accidentally played Cyndi Lauper in his desperate bid to not reveal his gym playlist. “Still handsome - still 99.9% sweet, and, I guess, 0.1% fuck boi,” you corrected.
He shook his head. “Just the 0.1%…okay - she’s upstairs.”
You nodded, sitting up, finger combing your hair. “Can I come?”
“Yeah,” he said, standing and fixing his shirt - he offered you a hand, pulling you up. You let him straighten your shirt and look you over. “Do I look like - you know?” he asked.
You smiled and neatened his collar. “No, you basically look like you had dinner and sort of watched a film.”
˚⟡˖ ࣪࣪
You followed him through the building and up the back stairs. He stopped outside a second-floor apartment, knocking lightly. You heard some noise from inside, and then the door swung open to reveal a petite, older woman with amazingly iron-gray hair. She wore a pink floral dressing gown with silver slippers and was accompanied by a small white dog that wasn’t even barking. You could hear the TV playing - you recognized it…Love Island.
“Seungcheol?” she asked, voice a whisper.
“I came to see if she needs a walk,” he said quietly.
“Ah, we went after dinner, but probably - she can come back, though - we’re watching our show.”
“It’s okay,” he glanced at you, looking sheepish. “I probably shouldn’t have bothered you.”
“Kkuma staying isn’t a bother. Anyway, introduce us,” she said it with a voice that knew what the next part was and wanted to get to it.
You smiled and walked forward to be introduced, first to Mrs. Lee and then to Kkuma. Mrs. Lee smiled and asked how dinner was. “Amazing,” you answered.
She nodded like she hadn’t expected any other answer. “Good, now go on walkies - I’ll pause the show until you're back.”
You grinned. How could you not?
She picked up Kkuma and handed her to you, while Seungcheol was handed the lead and bags and hand sanitizer. Kkuma was immediately the cutest lump of fluff - with these silly long bangs and big boba eyes. You couldn’t help hugging her gently - she was so warm and cozy like she’d just come from a lap when she was half asleep.
You followed Seungcheol outside with her and held her while he attached her lead to her collar.
He stared for a moment.
“What?” you asked.
“You have to put her down,” he said.
“Oh,” you pouted and sat her down. It felt rude. She glanced up at you like she agreed with the sentiment. “Sorry,” you mumbled to Kkuma.
He shook his head. “No, not you too - she’s already a baby.”
“Is that so bad?”
He watched you for a moment. “We were fully doing things…and stopped - she’s massively babied.”
You grinned and put your arm through his. “She’s so cute, though.”
“She’s watching Love Island with Mrs. Lee…”
“I know,” you yawned and leaned on his shoulder. “I wonder if it’s a good episode?”
You walked with them around the block twice - the first time was apparently for sniffing and the second time was for peeing on what seemed to be a very specific shrub, which would have made you laugh if you weren’t feeling so tired. You hadn’t especially thought about the part where you went home…or you had, but that was ages ago when you were also looking for apartments. A million years before curry and the good sour beers…
You followed him back in to return Kkuma to Mrs. Lee. Apparently, she had genuinely paused the show waiting for Kkuma to come back. And then you walked back to Seungcheol’s, leaning against his back while you waited for him to unlock his door.
“Want to stay?” he asked, closing the door.
You’d taken your shoes off. It wasn’t your plan. Even if you hadn’t thought as specifically about leaving, you had planned generally to leave, and checked a timetable at some point and snapped a screenshot. You glanced around, looking for some logic to appear and suggest a barrier…
“You’re tired - borrow some clothes, take a shower. I’m off tomorrow, too, so I can drive you back in the morning.”
You finally looked at him. He was leaning against the wall near the door, watching you.
You remembered that you had definitely been doing things with him…you nodded. “It’s a work-from-home day, so I can still do the metro—”
“Or I can get breakfast for you and drop you off after, and then maybe you’ll have a less shitty day.”
“I said it was mostly okay…”
“Right, from the stairwell.”
You shrugged. “It’s the easiest break spot.”
He shook his head. “Just come on - come ogle the fact that I have a clean bathtub…”
“There’s a full bathtub?” How had he found this place?
“You didn’t check?” he asked, glancing suspiciously over his shoulder.
“I’m not opening shower curtains…” There were boundaries, plus horror movies told you that’s where the dead bodies were, anyway.
“Umhm…”
He ushered you along as he did things, grabbing clothes for you, turning on the taps. You had the feeling that if things were further along, he would have showered with you or at least stayed around to talk…but they weren’t.
So you were left alone to sniff his soaps and shampoo like an absolute toiletry pervert. None were overtly ‘boy’ scented…nothing tagged ‘spring’ or ‘mountain’ or ‘blood spurt’ or ‘it’s just grappling - no homo.’ Instead, he had something minty from a brand you knew - there actually were other sides to him, despite his suggesting there weren’t…at least not dance-y sides. There was definitely the side that had made this purchasing decision, though, for instance…
He showered after you. Meanwhile, you sat on the sofa, toweling your hair, and pondering when you’d actually become this tired. At least you would see Shinchan, you thought with a wry smile. And you didn’t mind that you’d gone with him to walk Kkuma…you’d literally forgotten how tired you were somehow. Weirdo boy magic - that was the only explanation.
Maybe horniness, too…
“Come on,” he said from somewhere near your side. You nodded and got up, following along. He’d loaned you a washed soft t-shirt and sweats. You went first up the stairs, noticing how tight the spiral was - it was slightly disorienting. There was room to avoid hitting your head in the loft space, though. You weren’t that short, but even Seungcheol didn’t seem in danger of bumping his head.
You waited while he put towels over the pillows. He was going to sleep with damp hair too. “Want Shinchan?” he asked.
You smiled, shaking your head. “Just you,” you said from behind your hand as you yawned.
He nodded, moving closer, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close. You were already drifting.
You heard the soft ‘could have cancelled,’ as he nuzzled close.
That brought you back - your brows scrunching as you turned around. “Cancelled? Why?” you asked.
“You’re tired - a bad week? Those are reasonable things to say.”
You watched him for a moment, wondering what he was thinking. “That’s the kind of thing I say to people when I don’t want to see them,” you said, smoothing his hair. “I wanted to see you - I had a nice time, like really nice,” you whispered, kissing his cheek before turning back over and pulling his arm around you while you snuggled closer.
˚⟡˖ ࣪࣪
fic navigation: master list ↩️ | ▶️ part 1 | ⏩ part 2 | ⏩ epilogue
a/n: okay fr i hope you enjoyed this - it's my first like multi-big brick fics on tumblr and i really hope you had fun with these two ^^
♡ 𝚝𝚘𝚊𝚜𝚝
p.s. i kind of want a mingyu follow-up piece where he finds the right person LOL
read more here mingyu m.list | seungcheol m.list | general m.list
dividers by @/cursed-carmine (lace) & @/cursed-carmine (mdni)
this is actually probably one of the best comments i’ve ever gotten on a fic 🥹🥹 and one of the kindest compliments anyone who’s writing can ever get - thx so much for letting me know 🤍🤍
>>> the one where a fire alarm gets you a date and then some
fic navigation: master list ↩️ | ▶️ part 1 | ⏩ part 2 | ⏩ epilogue
pairing: c.sc / f!reader
summary: it starts with some toast on fire, and turns into a date and maybe the love of your life - OR - you’re an over-tired corporate worker who meets a handsome firefighter who makes you realize that there might be more to life than jumping through every hoop work gives you
𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐮𝐭
word count: 16.8k
genre tags: alternate universe - modern world | non-idol-au | firefighter!cheol | soft!cheol | corporate girlie!reader | slice of life | meet-cute | romance | romcom | idiots in love | eventual smut (see chapter warnings) | domestic af | hospitals (no one dies) | pov swaps | plot with porn | found family | reader hates dating apps | reader has stressful job | sort of svt fire station | semi-text chat | Kkuma included |
a/n: misspellings in dms between characters are intentional andddd yeah, just enjoy ^^ like, reblog, or generally let me know if you also kind of love their world bcs i actually do and kept adding to this and worrying about having too many paragraphs for a single post - and now it's in parts soooo oops ;-; thx for reading with me tho - this is my first like one big long fic here eekkkk, okie byeee and if you prefer reading longer works on ao3
✦•┈๑⋅… 1 …·๑┈•✦
You had been scrolling apps aimlessly when your friend asked how dating was going.
You shrugged. “Fine,” you’d mumbled.
‘Fine’ was more like a deflection, not an adjective. It was meant to end the conversation, not spur it the fuck along.
“You’ve got to find someone,” came Rei’s voice - she was so certain.
You rolled your eyes. “I really don’t, though.”
“Okay, but you’ll be the sad, lonely one learning how to Heimlich yourself,” she muttered, with a judging glance.
“I’m never watching 30 Rock with you again,” you groaned, and chucked a pillow at her.
You really hated dating apps. They were so impersonal. Plus all the stats said there were way more women on them anyway - like the chances of matching were so low to begin with.
Besides, you weren’t exactly throbbing for some dude who’d just leave crumbs everywhere, and make extra garbage, and have meat sweats mid-fuck.
Maybe you could ask your dealer out, you thought - that’d shut Rei up, surely, you guessed.
Anyway, you weren’t wading into fucking Bumble, or Hinge, or any of the other spaces again.
If you were going to meet a guy, it’d be irl, thank you very much.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
Rei was a good friend. And a mostly fine roommate.
She was less great when it came to things like not setting off the fire alarm when she forgot toast.
She was even worse when she was stoned and forgot that the bread even existed and wandered off to find saltwater taffy in her desk drawer.
So it wasn’t shocking that the fire alarm went off, waking you with its insistent PING-pinging sounds.
You bolted up and out of bed, running downstairs to find smoke billowing from under the kitchen door - fuck, fuck - this was bad, you thought as you pushed the door and went in.
At least it was localized. Just two tiny infernos in the oven.
You made it to the kitchen in time to shut everything off.
However, you didn’t make it in time to stop your security company from contacting emergency services.
And now you were stood on your front lawn, trying to explain to a fire…person that yes, the fire was, in fact, out.
You were in a very unsexy robe, terry cloth with big ol’ stripes, feet jammed into your massive yellow snow boots because those were the shoes in the hall closet of death, and a baseball cap tossed on to hide your bed head when the fire truck appeared.
You were absolutely fucking mortified. Because it was two pieces of toast! But you also couldn’t really do anything but handle it since Rei was happily passed out.
Fucking twat, you’d determined, lovingly, when you checked on her.
The fire department, though, you played every stupid card you could to explain about your friend the terrible cook.
At 2:15 AM.
On a Tuesday.
The main guy seemed to accept the idea of two dumb females.
Of course he would.
The guy next to him, though, he was younger and seemed to be taking it all in with a slight smirk.
He had a look like: (1) he didn’t believe you anymore than he could throw you regarding the idea that you’re-just-dumb, and (2) he kept glancing at your baseball cap like it was genuinely laughable.
It was distracting - who was he to judge your hat?
You kept looking to the side, registering the smirk from the peanut gallery.
So what if you noticed that the peanut gallery had gorgeous lips, and large eyes that flicked from your cap to your face - he wasn’t eyeing your tits, at any rate.
The main guy huffed. Hard. Something about a report to file and wandered off.
You apologized profusely, pointing to the remnants of the burned toast on the front lawn as evidence that the fire was definitely OUT.
You’d flung both pieces out the kitchen window with total abandon.
Fucking toast.
You were lucky not to be getting a citation. But there was some fine for a false alarm and response. You’d be checking the mail for that.
What an absolute fucking headache.
You sighed, muttering a small ‘thanks’ to the firefighters for their time. The second guy, Mr. Peanut, was still smirking.
You couldn’t help it when you met his gaze - he was really fucking fine. You’d finally looked since his boss was stomping away.
“What?” You asked quickly, genuinely wondering what was so funny.
“That hat,” he pointed, “kind of an insane choice, no?” He asked, voice low and sweet.
Oh, he was cute. And had one of those voices. Fuck.
You were quick to pull it off and see it was one from your home city - The Mets.
You were firmly in Dodgers land. You rolled your eyes and jammed it back on your head. “It’s called fashion, lance corporal —“
He snorted. “Fire Captain,” he corrected gently.
“Yeah, well, Fire Captain, I don’t even keep up with any teams,” you trailed off.
He smiled, a cute smile. “No? Maybe you should try a game sometime,” he suggested, voice soft.
You eyed him - he was definitely fit, tall, handsome. Definitely not staring out at you from your phone screen.
“That an offer?” You’d blurted it before you could even think.
He smiled, teeth showing. Really fucking cute. He glanced over his shoulder and then gave a small nod. “Just uh,” he glanced back, “you know, call the station, not 9-1-1, ask for Captain Choi?”
You found yourself nodding.
✦•┈๑⋅… 2 …·๑┈•✦
“So, did she call?” Mingyu asked. He was sitting across from Seungcheol and already halfway through his food somehow.
They’d barely sat down - and already with the question.
Seungcheol groaned. “Stop asking,” he muttered, digging into his chili and regretting that he’d told Mingyu anything. “And stop blabbing about it.” He shook his head, knowing his friend was a loudmouth. Unintentionally, usually, but still.
Besides, he didn’t want to talk about the girl in the Mets hat. And he didn’t want everyone in the station to know. All he needed was Soonyoung to find out…then the gc.
He just wanted to eat his lunch.
His shift was almost over, and then he had two days off to crash and game and - shit - pick up dry cleaning because one of their friends had the nerve to get married and he needed a suit.
Fuck - he’d definitely forgotten the wedding thing…maybe because of the girl in the Mets hat. It wasn’t the only false alarm they’d gotten in the last few days, but watching her walk out every version of ‘I’m-just-a-girl’ was entertaining, especially when she’d given him a new rank and title.
He’d not mentioned that part. He knew Mingyu, and ‘Lance Corporal Choi’ would have become a nickname way too quickly - he’d have to be reassigned to a station on the East Coast for it to maybe end.
Why he’d even told Mingyu at all was a mystery - Mingyu was too positive to share things like that with.
Besides, Seungcheol hadn’t given her his number because he was on duty and responding to a call, and that would definitely have looked weird. Plus, she was totally out of his league.
Someone living in Echo Park was not calling him.
He’d already made peace with that fact.
Now he just needed Mingyu to do the same.
“Look,” he started as he ate, “be more helpful and ask me whether I picked up my suit for the wedding thing, okay?”
“Did you?” Mingyu asked flatly.
“No - I mean like ask me tomorrow when I’m off.”
“So be your reminder?” Mingyu asked, brows arched.
Seungcheol shrugged. “More helpful than asking me about whether some random girl calls the station,” Seungcheol said as he ate.
Mingyu sighed. “Dude - save these requests for Mets Girl, or - just hear me out - there are these things on your phone called apps…and there’s one called ‘reminders’ – boom – mind-blowing shit, right?” Mingyu asked with an annoyingly condescending smirk.
Seungcheol rolled his eyes and gave Mingyu the finger. “Such a prick,” he mumbled as he finished his lunch and started to leave the table.
“But a prick with a date to Jeonghan’s wedding,” Mingyu added, still smirking…like a prick.
Suddenly, Seungcheol was glad they were on alternating shifts because it was that kind of comment that really annoyed him. What did it matter if he went stag? His life wasn’t over because he hadn’t asked anyone.
Still, their shifts weren’t completely alternating.
On a normal day, he’d be looking forward to when they were back on the same rotation. He’d almost always rather be on shift with Mingyu than not. Not that he didn’t trust anyone else, but he and Mingyu had known each other since training. And even if he trusted everyone, he always trusted Mingyu a little bit more.
Which made it even more irksome that Mingyu cared about his dating life. And brought it up. And had filled out multiple dating profiles for Seungcheol.
Seungcheol had checked the Hinge profile once and was surprised to find that he apparently enjoyed rock climbing on the weekends. He hadn’t even bothered to change it because he’d never use the app, so what did it matter if all the details were bogus?
˚⟡˖ ࣪
The problem was the texts he woke up to on Thursday morning. He was off and lying in bed at home.
[k.mingyu]
𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚍𝚍𝚍
𝚏𝚘𝚛 fire captain 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒
𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚞 𝚍𝚞𝚍𝚎
𝚋𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎
Staring at the texts, still blinking away sleep - he typed something about ‘stop bothering me’ and deleted it. He just wasn’t sure Mingyu was serious.
[seungcheol]
dude
it’s early
[k.mingyu]
i waited
told her to call back fri. bcs that’s ur next shift
[seungcheol]
surrprised u didn’t give her my number
[k.mingyu]
on duty
or i woould have 10000%
u need a date
Groaning loudly enough to get an odd look from Kkuma, Seungcheol flopped back against his pillows, muttering ‘sorry’ in the direction of her basket.
Still, he did not need a date. He needed to drop off dry cleaning and buy some food besides cereal…those were needs.
He also had to make sure that suit still fit - at least the wedding was still six weeks away…besides, how was he supposed to know that she would actually call him?
Lying there, in the privacy of his own apartment, he could admit that she was really cute that night too.
She’d looked gently insane. And really good too.
The entire outfit was madness - he’d had to stare at her hat to keep a straight face - and the Mets too, what a shit team - and the toast on the lawn - just these two beyond crispy little briquettes because, of course, throw them on the lawn…during an LA summer. Nothing bad could come from that.
Remembering the way she turned to him to ask, “what?” only made him snort.
[seungcheol]
did she rlly call
[k.mingyu]
yes
srsly i wouldn’t joke abt a grl
ur a hermit
[seungcheol]
we can’t all be u
And fuck everything with a pulse, Seungcheol thought with a grin. Mingyu was known to attract every sort of girl and then struggle to say anything but ‘yes.’ Which made for great stories around the station…
[k.mingyu]
duh
u just ignore when ppl like u
or freak out n do nothing
Seungcheol scowled. He didn’t freak out. Nothing was sort of accurate - he usually didn’t make a lot of moves. And he wasn’t going to argue with hermit - half of the reasons he went out were to take Kkuma on walks or for other Kkuma-related things. And when he was on duty, he left her with the little old lady upstairs, Mrs. Lee - so he basically left his house to walk his dog or to visit someone else’s grandma who watched his dog…
Actually, the more he thought, the more he knew that Mrs. Lee probably knew more about him than his last girlfriend had…she knew what he did for a living, his schedule (she had a printed copy that he updated monthly), where he was from, where his family was from, his favorite dishes, that he didn’t like things too spicy…maybe he did have a date for Jeonghan’s wedding.
She did often refer to him as a ‘nice young man.’
He rolled onto his stomach to hide the way he was laughing at the idea, which wasn’t actually that bad of an idea - he knew her family didn’t visit her very often, and old people seemed to enjoy weddings…plus, Mingyu would shit a brick.
He buried his face in his pillow.
He was on his second nap of the morning. He’d been up early to walk Kkuma and pick up some milk from the bodega.
And then he’d come home and passed out for a bit…and woke up for a bit…maybe Mingyu had texted at a normal time…he didn’t know.
But apparently, on Friday, there would be a call. He yawned and flopped onto his back, deciding that he should maybe try to be positive.
He heard Kkuma’s collar jingle and then the sounds of her padding over to circle the stairs she didn’t like.
The joy of a studio apartment with a loft for the “bedroom” was that his bed wasn’t technically in his living room - it was over the kitchen and had enough room for him to sit up without whacking his head, but it was only accessible by way of these weird, wiry little spiral stairs that Kkuma never seemed to trust.
He’d realized the mistake quickly when she was a puppy, and he’d basically lived on his sofa to avoid Kkuma whining.
And now, he knew she probably wanted him up, or at least on the sofa where she could jump up too.
Little doggie demands were definitely something that he regularly gave in to, and he wasn’t embarrassed about that. Sitting up and running a hand through his hair, his mind lingered because…she’d actually called him.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
Besides the obvious fire emergency that wasn’t actually. You were in the middle of a fairly shit-show week.
Also, you weren’t sure if you were really meant to call the local fire station or not - you had looked it up during your commute, though. Fire station number 20.
And then you’d seen him in the station’s photos and immediately locked your phone like he would somehow cosmically know you’d searched for him.
But the embarrassment was real.
He’d seen you after you’d raided the closet that literally existed to absorb all the crap you and Rei collected and couldn’t be asked to actually put away when one of you cleaned - just throw it in the closet…and look like you fell into a pile of old tat just in time to meet a cute guy.
Sitting in your cubicle Tuesday morning, staring down at your first coffee of the day, you decided that closet had to be addressed.
You were less certain about calling him, though. Because it wasn’t even him, exactly; it was a station…if it was like calling your office, there was a receptionist and a phone tree and…you didn’t love the idea.
Especially if it wasn’t serious.
Stirring your coffee, you considered if his saying to call and who to ask for constituted seriousness of purpose. Luckily, your inbox started its normal explosion, which distracted you totally until you left the office at 2:23 PM to grab the burrito you’d ordered.
You were a regular at the place, even though it was standing room only for eating. You were pretty sure that standing only meant they didn’t have to offer a bathroom to customers. Which was fine; you could stand and watch people milling around the plaza that led to Angel’s Flight, which you kind of loved. The little orange and black rail-ish car that you sometimes walked to and rode up and down just to be out of the office.
It was like $1.50 for some level of sanity.
Just like your burrito. And standing and staring at something besides your computer or the office’s ceiling or the gray fabric of your cubicle’s walls.
You unlocked your phone, and it immediately showed you where you’d left off - seeing Fire Captain Choi’s face (and others, of course) next to a giant number 20.
The burrito made you feel more confident that you weren’t disturbing the particles of the universe by reading the caption and seeing that it was actually “Fire Captain Seungcheol Choi.”
And now you knew his first name.
But still not whether he was actually expecting you to call.
Which was a silly thought - you knew you - you’d call.
You just needed the correct level of burrito to settle your stomach. You had called guys before.
Just pre-apps…and usually it was a text about class or something.
Shit. What did you do before apps?
You clicked around to find the number for the station, and noticed that there was a Yelp! page… which was wild to see since it was a public service…not a donut shop. Still, you poked around the main webpage hoping that there were different lines, like for an operator or something, but no - just the one number to call.
But you’d finished your burrito, and you had a client call to prep for, anyway.
You could only hope that it would keep…and not be too weird.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
Wednesday was an early day.
You started checking emails before you were out of bed to see what might have happened overnight - nothing that was literally immediate. So you’d gotten up, found a quick YouTube yoga session, grabbed a shower but not your hair - dry shampoo would work for another day…and then you’d grabbed a yogurt, a granola bar, and a protein shake for breakfast and a little wheel of cheese and some nuts for a snack…otherwise, you would stress eat ALL of the BBQ flavored chips in the breakroom.
You might still.
You got to the office by 7:45 AM and were only minimally sweaty.
You ate at your desk.
And no burrito time because there were changes that someone wanted to the formatting of all the tables and charts…so you ordered a green bowl and the de-stress green drink and a ginger shot in the group order that the admin had started.
You knew the ginger shot well - it was vile, but it did wake you up.
It was one of those days where even going to the bathroom felt timed. Not in a visible way, but going always risked that that would be exactly when someone would ‘not be able to find you.’ Because bodily functions ceased to exist if there was a deliverable, somehow. At least in the minds of your colleagues, anyway.
And then there was dinner - a team dinner to celebrate another job ending. You’d thought you could slip out of it, but no - it was planned - someone had flown in…therefore, an Irish goodbye was not the fuck happening.
You lingered at your desk a bit so you could at least Uber to the restaurant on your own. And for once, you loved LA traffic because it gave you a solid twenty-five minutes of quiet.
Or it would have…if you hadn’t started talking to your driver.
But he was nice in that way that was endearing and easily approachable, and when you started off by asking if you could get his opinion, he was locked in like you’d known one another since childhood.
By the time you were getting your first drink, you’d been told emphatically to call that fire station!
You’d almost done it in the Uber, but his app had pinged for a pickup. He’d wished you good luck, though.
And anyway, at least you’d talked to someone about it. And they thought it was a genuine offer, partially because “man was at work, and he still dropped his name. MAMA come on.”
Did it maybe confirm your own thoughts? Yes.
But that was okay.
And once you’d had two cocktails, you slipped out to the balcony and dialed the number.
You listened to the first ring, and before there could even be a second one - “Fire Station 20, Specialist Kim speaking.”
The voice was so quick and abrupt. “Uh, hi - sorry, someone told me to call? And now that feels slightly weird…” Your voice trailed off, and you definitely wanted to hang up.
There was barely a pause. “Seungcheol - he’s not on shift, but I’ll tell him that the Mets Girl called - he’s back on Friday, and I feel like he’s got a pile of paperwork, so call like early when he’ll be in the office.”
You couldn’t help the small laugh at the informational deluge. “That’s extremely specific—”
“I know, but I’m not a fan of missed connections, so Friday, like 0800 - solid chance that he’ll be the only person in the office then, too.”
You nodded, still smiling. “Okay, Friday - thanks.”
And the call ended - not with a nasally operator or a phone tree debacle - just very specific directions from someone who knew Seungcheol.
It was maybe less nerve-inducing to know that apparently he had told someone that you were going to call…still, there was Thursday to get through.
And then the actual call.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
Thursday dragged at a literal sloth’s pace. But uphill. So maybe it was just a human pace, but going up an extremely steep incline…the nuance did not matter.
The day was a fucking slog until you were in your car and experiencing zero traffic because it was like 1:00 AM - it was technically Friday.
It was technically Friday, and all you wanted to do was pass out under a rock without wifi or cell signal for the next three days.
But while you were sitting at a tremendously long red light on West Sunset, you remembered that you were supposed to call Seungcheol…today. 0800 according to the voice who’d answered the call.
You weren’t sure if you could think of a less sexy scenario - a scheduled call with a member of the male species after other members of that species had given you endless tedious fucking notes on your report section, including that the shadow they’d requested for their tables was slightly larger than what they preferred…it was the kind of thing that made you consider physical violence.
But, no, you’d made it through. And you’d be revived by 0800.
You exhaled a long, slow breath and stared at the stupid red light, willing it to CHANGE.
And once it finally did - you made it home, parked. And autopiloted yourself to your room. You didn’t even change for bed or pull the duvet down - you just face planted.
Sleep was good.
But your 6:00 AM alarm was bad. Still, you sat up somehow, blinking into existence and hoping a shower would get your brain online.
You were in the office by 7:45 AM - again.
And you left to get breakfast - and to call.
You felt like being on the plaza near a coffee shop was better than your normal choice of hiding in the stairwell.
The call was still scary - that whole one ring and ANSWER thing, which was probably great when the caller had an actual emergency. Maybe he would let it ring twice, though - maybe?
You jammed your headphones in and tapped to dial.
One ring. Literally.
“Fire station 20, Captain Choi speaking.”
It was so crisp - he sounded rested, even - how dare he. “Um, right, hi,” you croaked - you weren’t a wizened crone of anything, scout’s honor. You squeezed your eyes closed. “I’m - uh - I’m the false-alarm-burnt-toast-Mets-hat-girl, and I don’t know if you were serious about my calling or not…” Your voice trailed off into the fucking ether.
You could feel the pause - he was definitely deciding something. “I - yeah, I was, actually.”
Nodding, you opened your eyes to see the little bee sanctuary things you usually sat near. “This is maybe early, but when I called before, umm—”
“Mingyu told you I’d be in the office?”
“Yes - that - that’s the one.”
He was quiet for a moment. “So - I forgot that every call that comes in is recorded for training—”
You laughed. “Of course they are.”
“But if you happen to have Instagram?”
“Definitely, I am a member of this century - what should I be looking for?” You were trying to keep it together.
“It’s - basically my name…”
“Ah, a creative,” you mumbled, glad you were wearing headphones and could swap to the app and search.
“I know it’s - I spent time choosing where to add the period.”
You smiled and ran a hand through your hair. “Uh-huh - okay, so I’m guessing you were also creative with the profile picture that is clearly you?”
“Umhm, that’s - that’s me,” his voice cracked slightly. “This is terrible - this is like fourth date territory.”
You laughed then. “I think it’s perfect. No notes.”
He did at least have it set to private. You hit ‘follow’ and saw the almost immediate add.
You clicked into the messages and typed quickly.
“Testing?” he asked, reading out your message like it needed scrutiny.
“Exactly - testing.”
You watched the bubble pop up - ‘10-4’.
You smiled. “Good, 10-4.”
Another message popped up - ‘rlly srry this is complicated.’
“It’s fine - it’s silly, not catastrophic,” you mumbled.
“So we can plan?” he asked.
“Yeah, I think so, and for the record, and for the benefit of the Yelp page I happened to see - five out of five stars - all questions were answered - you were extremely obliging and knowledgeable at all times - I felt like this was just a really safe space for me...”
“That’s—” again the pause in his voice. “That’s great - I’m glad to hear that - if we can be of any further service—”
“No, no - super productive chat, thanks so much.”
And you ended the call and covered your mouth with a hand to hide the tiny screech that came from how insane the last, approximately, three minutes of your life had been.
You’d just given him a five-star rating in case there was like a review of recording and called it a safe space. What the fuck was your life, anyway?
✦•┈๑⋅… 3 …·๑┈•✦
He was on a two-day shift. And it was on day two that Mingyu came in to cover for someone who’d gotten sick.
He’d been so close to not having to give any details in person.
But there Mingyu was at roll-call…waiting, smiling, like a fucking shark…and Seungcheol’s dating life was the blood in the water. For once, he was glad he would be out inspecting buildings for the day.
Which only postponed the inevitable.
So a day of walking around a building site, sweating and miserable, checking for tiny fire code issues, and knowing Mingyu would still be there.
It was something, though - he could try to condense everything down while he sat in the back and stared blankly at a page of code in stupid, tiny font that made him feel like he needed his vision checked. Or maybe he could just talk about the phone call, not the extended cut of what planning looked like so far. Mingyu did not need to know that Seungcheol’d figured out that text bricks from you were normal and something like an emoji and one word were your version of “death.” And Mingyu never needed to know that Seungcheol liked your messages and thought it was cute when you used the goofy in-app features like the gift box message thing. Even he was embarrassed that he enjoyed it, and he had practically zero game. He should’ve been attempting to be cool.
But it felt pointless somehow like you already sort of knew that he was possibly a dork on some level. And didn’t seem to care. So technically a win, since judging by your Insta…you were hot. And probably not dorky since you went skiing and went to brunch with actual people and willingly stood in group pictures.
He didn’t go skiing. He went to brunch when Mingyu dragged him along. He avoided photos…mostly. He was…fit…he posted gym selfies. Which you had gone through and spam-liked over the weekend at 2 AM. He hadn’t asked for details about that - he just stared at the notifications when he woke up. You’d hearted every single one. Even lying in bed, he’d felt how warm his cheeks had gotten - it hadn’t mattered that he posted thirst traps - it mattered that you’d looked at every thirst trap and tapped the ‘heart’ icon. And that you knew roughly what he looked like under all the fire gear. That was a prime reason he’d set his account to private - people noticing things, when he was generally pretty modest. It wasn’t like he wasn’t noticing you…he was just quiet about it.
Still, he had to avoid telling Mingyu things.
Maybe if the date went well, then he would share? No, that didn’t sound like him.
Besides, he’d searched you in general and saw your firm profile…and your LinkedIn and all the stuff that read like it was from another planet. It wasn’t bad to see, but he wondered if maybe he’d seem boring. Boring and dorky. Even if he was fit - those were maybe strikes against anything besides a few dates…maybe one hookup. He wasn’t like Mingyu - he couldn’t just flatly be positive - he needed to manage his expectations, even if messaging you was fun - he didn’t know what it would be like in person.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
You still weren’t fully certain how you’d found yourself sitting next to Fire Captain Choi Seungcheol in the stands at a Dodgers game. Besides luck and that he possibly had questionable standards.
They weren’t playing the Mets.
Regardless, when he texted details a few days before, he’d not so subtly suggested a different hat - something about trying to fit in.
You’d glowered at the screen - your face scrunching because you weren’t that obtuse. Besides, you didn’t even like baseball. Fit in, though? You’d fit in alright. Like it was even a challenge to begin with and not just something silly he’d said. You’d rolled your eyes at yourself as you got ready. You really knew how to take the bait and run with it…at least he’d know that part. And only mildly at your expense.
Because you had gone slightly insane borrowing a jersey from a co-worker. A classic away jersey, too, apparently, according to Greg, who sat in a different cubicle cluster. You weren’t fucking around.
Seungcheol had still smirked at you when he saw you. “Cute,” he’d muttered, walking you to his Jeep.
You had the slight urge to give him the finger…instead, you just rolled your eyes and shook your head because, in your own weird way, you’d tried to do exactly what he’d suggested…fit in.
And maybe you let him open your door for you.
It was a little high school.
But also a little cute since you did have to climb onto the side step. But mostly because he seemed kind of earnest about it - not like it was ironic door opening or he wanted to touch your ass. More like this was just the thing to do.
He had a Jeep-Jeep - all white…and your knowledge ended there. It was one of the ones that looked outdoorsy and had rubber ducks across the dashboard, filling the front window. You wanted to poke a duck, but had no clue what they meant - gang symbols for all you knew. Therefore, no clue if it was rude or playful to touch. But there was one pink one that you had the urge to hurl out the window when you were on West Sunset.
Instead, you busied yourself staring out the window and glancing at him while he was driving - you’d done some light insta stalking. And maybe some photo liking…but he definitely posted thirst traps.
Gym selfie thirst traps, too.
Rei had caught you ogling in the kitchen and classified him as ‘Damnnn - if you don’t fuck, I swear.’ You’d laughed, of course, even if you felt just a little flustered.
Because he was maybe, unquestionably sexy…a word you weren’t super fond of, but you still kept finding yourself scrolling idly through his photos for the last few days…weeks? years? Who knew anymore…
You’d been in bed the night before, scrolling, and you wondered if you’d ever been this interested in a man’s pecs before.
No. clearly.
You’d sighed loudly into the dark.
“He’s sexy,” you’d huffed to yourself, flopping around until you found the right position and the cool spot under your pillow. “He’s stupidly sexy.”
Still, it was a little difficult to reconcile the thirst traps where he was flexing to show his arms, cap pulled low over his eyes, and the guy next to you in the car toggling around for music that didn’t sound like it was part of a gym playlist.
So much trap rap…and EDM, and you kind of respected both - it was more his own reaction to the situation that was entertaining.
His need to hit skip quickly and repeatedly was palpable.
You tried not to grin since the cosmos and his phone seemed to be set on embarrassing him.
You wanted to tease him. Or at least wrestle the aux cord from him for his own good.
He’d finally settled for just turning it off when Cyndi Lauper started playing.
Time after time, indeed, you thought with a snort.
“Cute,” you muttered, staring out the window, smiling hard, trying to let him save face and almost succeeding.
But after a few minutes, you turned and grabbed the aux cord, plugging it into your phone and playing what you considered ‘music for company’, aka not the 8 Mile soundtrack, which you were certain lurked in his saves.
You weren’t embarrassed by house music, though. And you enjoyed the knowing smile that crossed his face - something like ‘of course,’ clearly populating his brain.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
You were glad it was at least a night game. The temps would drop to something tolerable. LA heat could be brutal, after all.
The problem was - you hated baseball.
It was so boring.
The games you went to as a kid were basically you and a cousin running riot around the stadium - or just leaving and grabbing the train to do something better.
But this was a date that you initiated, to be fair, and the seats were good, as in not absolute nosebleeds.
You were close to the dugout, actually. You could hear the bat crack the ball now and then. But it wasn’t like soccer with fan chants, and it definitely wasn’t like football with everyone pounding everyone else. It was like sitting in another era…where talkies were all the rage and the radio was maybe leading young girls down a path of immorality. You pinched your arm to keep from laughing at the bizarre mental tableau you were building.
And seeing Seungcheol in civilian wear was almost awkward. You had just assumed he only appeared in compression shirts and officers’ slacks 24/7, waiting for a call. But no. Jeans, a t-shirt that was not as revealing as his gymwear, plus he was wearing an oversized button-down over his t-shirt (unbuttoned, at least), and a cap that was just the right amount of worn-in. He looked like the actual fan.
While you looked like you were cosplaying as a rabid fan.
He looked like he was watching with interest.
And you looked like you were practicing as an extra for a zombie movie - glassy eyes and minimal movement.
Which was something…you gave him a sideways glance, knowing it would just confirm that ‘yes - that was his jawline’…and wasn’t it kind of amazing? Yes, you answered silently.
But the silence couldn’t last.
“So, are you one of those guys who's annoyed if I ask questions about the game?” You had to ask - sitting in total quiet on a date was too bizarre.
He turned, brows scrunched like he’d heard the question and was confused why he was being asked it. “No.”
Nodding, you watched the batter approaching home plate. “Okay - the batter - is he any good?”
Seungcheol shrugged. “He’s okay, I think,” he mumbled.
“You think?” you asked, skepticism dripping.
He cleared his throat. “I like watching because it’s fun - I don’t go all in on stats and stuff…”
You gasped and pushed his shoulder lightly. “But you know enough to dunk on my Mets hat?”
He nodded, turning to look at you again, eyes wide with certainty. “Yes - they suck - full stop.”
You giggled at the intensity. “But you don’t know stats…”
“Even the most casual of casual fans would know they suck.”
“Mmhm, coming from a casual fan…” you muttered.
He shook his head. “I’m not that casual.”
You sighed and glanced at the Jumbotron as it flashed stats and cut to the field. You’d literally never listened to anything at a game as a kid, except the heckling - that was fun. You knew what a home run was…that was technically something.
“So, can I ask something?” he asked, voice light and interrupting the stampede of your own thoughts.
You nodded. “Yeah, it’s a date - questions are sort of the point,” you added.
“You wondered if you could ask sports questions?”
You huffed. “Yeah, because experience tells me men don’t like being bothered during their sport watching.”
“Date rules don’t trump sport watching in your world?”
You paused to consider and finally shook your head. “No, if anything it means sit back and prepare to be ignored for like two hours.”
“Wait - timeout - you’re telling me that your experience is being ignored on dates like this, and you were like ‘let’s go to a game’?” he asked, a small grin appearing.
Oh, no - he couldn’t be making mental leaps like whatever he was. “Okay, before you start thinking some boy thing—”
“What are boy things?” he interrupted.
You groaned. “You know, just like before you start telling yourself I was just so into you I’ll sit through a miserable activity or some similar macho nonsense—”
“You are literally sitting and dressed seriously for a thing you don’t like.”
You pursed your lips. “Be that as it may - okay - just accept that I may have a weird competitive streak at times that outruns anything else, and you were so smug—”
“I wasn’t smug - I was on duty—”
“Umhm, and judging how I dressed in a panic. And mentioning that I should fit in…”
He laughed. “I – yeah, fine, the yellow snow boots were something…and wearing that hat would be so random…”
You crossed your arms in a faux-sulk. “I love those boots - they’re technically Moon Boots, by the way, which are very cool. And I already explained the hat…”
He nodded, glancing at you, clearly smiling as he examined your state. “Fine, if we’re saying embarrassing things—”
“I’m not embarrassed about my footwear…”
He smirked. “Can I say my thing?”
You nodded, pressing a finger to your lips like you were in Kindergarten and needed to prove you’d be quiet.
He gave a soft shake of his head. “I didn’t really think the date would get this far,” he said, voice flat.
You felt your brows scrunch. “Wait - far as in?” You had to clarify.
He shrugged again. “I sort of thought you would cancel, well, no, actually I didn’t think you would call…”
Your brows went up.
“Why?” you asked, voice a little sharp.
He hummed, gaze flicking back to the game. “You seem a little out of my lane, I guess,” he mumbled.
Your brows scrunched together. “How?”
He looked back at the game for a moment. “Your LinkedIn reads very intensely, I guess,” he said with a small laugh.
You immediately felt heat in your face - you hadn’t even considered stalking LinkedIn. But you fully knew how your profile sounded…very accolade-heavy, and then there was your job that sounded oh-so-serious and was basically bullshit that you hated waking up for.
You nodded. “Right,” you mumbled, chewing your lip lightly, “sounds like the online stalking was mutual, then?”
“Seems like it…I just didn’t ‘heart’ things.”
You felt the way your head jerked at that and forced yourself to stare straight ahead. So what if you had hearted things?
A quiet settled between you and him. Not awkward silence, exactly. More like the normal quiet that sometimes comes in a conversation. You felt his knee brush yours - you watched for a moment to see if he pulled away…one Mississippi…two Mississippi…three Mississippi…you couldn’t help glancing every few seconds to see if it was still happening - the actual feeling of denim against your skin wasn’t enough - you needed the visual.
The silence didn’t last.
“So, besides thinking I’m smug, why come to a game you don’t like?” He asked, glancing at you, knee still touching yours.
You flushed - you needed to say something real. “Uh, honestly?”
“Yes, ideally.”
You grinned. “Right - ideally - uh, because I met you in person…and apps are so weird, so I decided I’d only talk to someone if I met them in the wild - plus you didn’t seem offended by me, generally, which is always a plus….”
He hummed again. The sound was soft, like he was registering the response for its quality.
“Apps are weird,” he agreed.
You nodded. “Right? Like, who wants to type a brick about themselves?”
“Everyone I work with,” he admitted.
You glanced with interest. “You?”
You watched the slight pink appear higher on his cheeks. “Not by choice,” he offered, looking away quickly.
You grinned, immediately opening your phone to do recon…post-recon, you wondered to yourself.
He was easy to find. You started to read his bio, but he was also sitting next to you. You bit your lip lightly, navigating around to your own profile, which you’d never completed.
An idea came to you, and you clicked into the questionnaire. “Okay, so instead of me creeping on what I feel like was perhaps a group effort for you,” you mumbled, glancing to see the way he was pointedly staring at the game, “maybe we go through some of the insane questions on my unfinished profile?” you offered, almost sounding excited.
It was at least distracting. And you found out that he really liked his job and that he lived in the fire station when he was on call. “Really? Don’t you miss your bed, though?” you’d leaned slightly closer, like it was the literal most interesting fact in the world.
He’d glanced at you and rolled his eyes. “Yes - sometimes, but it’s not bad,” he added.
You nodded, humming. “So what else do you do when you’re there?”
“Test stuff, repair things, go to meetings…” he glanced at you then as if to ask if he needed to go on.
“Do you commute?”
“Umhm.”
“Right.” You glanced at his knee that was still touching yours.
You didn’t really pay attention to the game. And even he didn’t seem to want to sit through the double-triple-heptagonal overtime. You’d followed him out of the stands and ended up looping your arm through his as you walked through the milling groups of people waiting for the bathrooms or picking up food. You’d squeezed closer to him whenever you felt like you might collide with some oncoming person.
And then you were finally in the massive parking lot, arm still looped through his as you walked to his parking space.
You were mostly glad to be out of the ballpark. You sighed when you were back in his car, almost happy to see the ducks staring at you in greeting.
You still didn’t poke them.
You listened to the car start, feeling the ambient heat wrestle with the first waves of the AC. “I liked the Cyndi Lauper,” you mumbled, staring out the window at some guy with face paint.
“Who doesn’t?” He asked, getting situated.
You were still watching the face-painter. “Lunatics?” you mused.
The ride home was easy.
It was late - traffic was almost nothing.
And then you were parked in the driveway. You would have normally popped out of a guy’s car so fast.
But you didn’t.
You stayed in the seat, feeling the weird liminal space of being in his Jeep - you were outside but also not...
“What’s with the ducks?” You couldn’t keep it in.
He glanced at them. “Uh, kind of a dumb Jeep thing - you see someone else, and you leave a duck and collect the ones people leave you.” He answered.
You stared for a moment. “That’s so…wholesome,” you sighed, turning to look at him.
He nodded, reaching to poke a duck back into its proper place.
You waited for him to turn back to you again. One-banana, two-banana, you counted internally.
“Seungcheol,” you whispered like his name was some secret phrase.
He looked. “Hmm?”
“Could we like maybe go out again?” you asked, gently nudging the duck butt of the pink duck.
He watched you for a moment, his intense baby-cow eyes on you, and nodded. “Yeah,” he confirmed.
You pursed your lips, pausing for the drama. “Like soon, maybe?”
“Should I bother trying to be cool and wait like two days or whatever to answer?” He asked, a smile building.
You tilted your head. “Please be joking,” you muttered.
He smiled - fucking dimples that did weird things to your brain appearing on cue. “Yeah, I’m—”
You cut him off, leaning across the console to kiss him.
It could have been quick. But you’d been thinking about it since the third inning.
His lips were warm - your fingers and hand pressed gently to his cheek. You weren’t expecting him to deepen it, to nip lightly at your lower lip - you breathed harder when he did, leaning closer, opening for him. Your fingers tangled in his short black hair - his hand came to your jaw, guiding you, tracing along the side of your neck and down to the center of your collarbones, until you needed to breathe, anyway.
You didn’t exactly want to stop.
You swallowed hard and gave his hair a gentle tug and got rewarded with a smirk and the reappearance of his dimples. You wanted to climb into the back seat…so high school of you.
You bit your tongue gently, deciding this shouldn’t be that - not yet, anyway.
“Message me?” you asked, as you gently poked his left dimple.
“Yeah.” It was so simple - the way he gazed at you as he answered, his voice breathy - the way he didn’t push for more, even though you hadn’t let go, even though his fingers were still tracing just under your collarbone, teasing the neckline of the jersey.
You pressed the bridge of your nose to his, letting your lips barely graze his before you pulled back and shifted back to your own seat.
And then you had to get out. Because staying would have been a weird choice.
You were almost inside when you stopped to wave to him - then you slipped inside, messaging him as you walked upstairs.
[y/n]
ur sweet and it was fun
[y/n]
let me kno u get home pls
[choi.s]
home now
it was fun
ttyl?
[y/n]
you better
i know where u wrk
[choi.s]
another threat?
[y/n]
maybe
first one worked out pretty well 💅
andd it would be fun to see you come down a pole…
✦•┈๑⋅… 4 …·๑┈•✦
Cleaning the mess hall was not Seungcheol’s favorite, but it meant he could keep thinking about his date without Mingyu’s interjections. Not that they were terrible, exactly. He just wanted it to be in his brain for a little while longer - just him with the details of how good you looked in a jersey - the most bored super fan in the world. He had to pause wiping down a table and force the smile that was forming into something more neutral.
He couldn’t walk around looking happy - someone would notice. It wasn’t just Mingyu who tried to set him up. Soonyoung had once stared at him from across the table at lunch and suggested his own sister…the same sister who assumed any calls from Soonyoung were butt-dials.
He needed to look stern. He tried thinking about something serious…a graph? Graphs were usually serious…and boring. Graphs didn’t leave their knees touching his. Graphs would not have put up with any of that - graphs would have clutched pearls and called him ‘forward’…you hadn’t, though. You’d pressed your knee slightly to his…your knees were nice too, and your legs…he should be thanking whoever invented shorts.
“Dude!”
Seungcheol turned around. “What? Sorry…”
Mingyu grinned and pushed Soonyoung’s arm. “Told you - he finally ended his drought.”
“No, he looks spaced out and dopey even when he hasn’t gotten laid,” Soonyoung said, voice matter-of-fact.
Seungcheol glared at Mingyu for a moment…he’d clearly told Soonyoung. He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about the fact that there had been a date. Mingyu was taller, but that had never really stopped Seungcheol from tackling him before or putting him in a hold that would make him tap out.
Mingyu held up his hands. “He noticed the follow on Insta - I was under duress - I swear,” he said it as he was slowly moving to stand behind Soonyoung. Like Soonie was a serious block.
Seungcheol started to circle the table. Mingyu jumped slightly. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Who else did you accidentally tell?”
“No one…basically,” Mingyu reassured, walking backwards, putting a long table between himself and Seungcheol.
Seungcheol shook his head, not accepting that little ‘basically’ Mingyu added.
“Jeonghan knows - he thinks you have a plus one,” Soonyoung said, stepping out of Seungcheol’s way.
Seungcheol’s eyes widened. “The fuck?”
Mingyu shrugged. “It just…we were in chat, and everyone noticed the hot girl follow—” and then Mingyu was running.
Seungcheol scrunched his face. “I know where you sleep!”
Mingyu flipped him off as he kept going. Seungcheol rolled his eyes. “He better fucking run home.”
He turned to find Soonyoung still there. “Okay, but for real, inquiring minds and all…” Soonyoung said with a crazy forced smile…like that was convincing anyone.
Seungcheol shook his head. “No. Fuck off - aren’t you supposed to be washing something?”
“Did it. Wrote a book about it. Sorry, but Mingyu told us about the toast and the hat and—”
“So, he ran his mouth? I don’t have to corroborate any of it. In fact, you all - we’re not friends for the rest of shift - I’m the captain on duty - fuck off somewhere.” He crossed his arms and did his best ‘eat shit’ face.
And Soonyoung just walked closer until he reached up and squished Seungcheol’s cheeks. “I know that works on the recruits, but seriously,” he squished Seungcheol’s cheek harder, “I’ve known you too long for it to really have the same effect. Besides, you’ll spill the beans eventually and be annoyingly cute and shit - so fine, I’ve got an audiobook...” he said it like it was the biggest fucking deal to be listening to some murder mystery while he vacuumed.
But he did finally stop squishing Seungcheol’s cheeks like the most intense eomma on the planet. “There’s a second date, though, right?”
Seungcheol just stared in response, eyebrow arched in annoyance because Soonie couldn’t actually be fishing for fucking details. Apparently, some things still worked on Soonyoung since he backed away then. “I’ll just assume the stony face means ‘yes’…” he declared as he walked away.
Seungcheol didn’t care, but he checked the gc. Why was all his shit somehow always in there, he wondered, scrolling…fucking Mingyu.
He slept off and on that night - no emergencies, at least - and left for home the next morning. He’d mostly not talked to his friends until the 0800 shift swap. But he also knew it was kind of dumb to be mad at them when they were just happy for him - happy idiots. He’d finally broken when they were playing pool against each other. He hadn’t told them about knees touching or anything, but he’d admitted that there had been a kiss. And it was like being attacked by two oversized dogs with way too many questions about what kind of kiss it was. What was the pressure like? How long did it lasttt? Where were your hands?!
Fucking idiots. His idiots.
He was sitting in the parking lot now, though. Costco. His own version of a zombie apocalypse…too crowded, everyone for themselves, shoving, crying…nightmare stuff.
He felt his phone buzz…you. You, whose day was just starting. You who looked really sexy in shorts and a jersey and had definitely made out with him…still talking to him…the same him who’d still been hard about the makeout when he’d gotten home after the game. He’d had the briefest, tiniest urge to send you a dick pic after the game and something about it being your fault.
Why did he feel like you would be down for a dick pic? Constant flow of messages? But you hated online dating…but you didn’t seem to hate him. And he still wasn’t sure what that kind of photo would do. He’d snapped a bathroom selfie the day before, after lifting…shirt up, abs and arms. He smirked, knowing you were hating work at that very moment…his thumb hovered over the photo…you’d literally liked every single thirst trap…this was thirstier?
Then the message popped up.
[y/n]
so jealous ur at costco during the day
He snorted, closing his eyes, letting it really sink in that you were talking about his Costco run. He leaned forward, letting his forehead rest on the steering wheel. He was going to send a thirst trap to someone who wanted to talk about Costco…No. Shit. He couldn’t, right?
[choi.s]
u mean the most calustrophic store on earth?
[y/n]
gots to love it
[choi.s]
i don’t tho
dread it is more accurate
[y/n]
that’s the beauty
stock up
[choi.s]
i have like one closet
[y/n]
just be more efficient
[choi.s]
is this where i say smth dumb abt efficiency and get to see u again
[y/n]
you dun have to say anything dumb
i already asked
[choi.s]
right
u keep doing that
[y/n]
be faster next time
[choi.s]
what’s faster for u
asking for a thrid date now
[y/n]
i do like like a schedule
[choi.s]
dinner?
[y/n]
when
second date or third
[choi.s]
when says grl w worst schedule ever
2nd
[y/n]
when asks grl who will try very hard to make it work even if slightly dead
[choi.s]
tell me when works
[y/n]
thurs??
[choi.s]
yes
[y/n]
ayeeee sweet - date 2
dinner consisting of 1 dead grl & 1 pretty boy
[choi.s]
date 3
[y/n]
let me check
[choi.s]
srsly?
[y/n]
i mean...yeah
˚⟡˖ ࣪
He’d made it through Costco and back home. He shoved the cold things in his fridge quickly, and went upstairs to get Kkuma. He didn’t like to be late picking her up after his shifts. Mrs. Lee was already way too nice for keeping Kkuma as often as she did - she was practically a second home for the little white fuzz ball.
Precious white fuzz ball, he corrected himself as he caught his hand on the bannister leading to the second floor, smooth wood gliding under his hand.
He knew Mrs. Lee loved her “Kkuma time.” She even took Kkuma to the dog groomer sometimes - she’d gifted Kkuma a rain jacket for walks and little knitted doggie sweaters when the weather started to shift - “she needs some extra warmth.” Which, they all went along with the bow clips Seungcheol bought to keep Kkuma’s bangs out of her eyes...he winced at the door - he maybe did too much as a dog-Dad.
He knocked on the heavy wooden door - not his normal ‘official’ knuckle rapping, the soft, polite knocks of a neighbor. He appreciated the sound of knocking against old wood, though - it was one of the nice things about living in a building from like the 1920s. Wooden doors and noisy pipes and weirdly good layouts.
The door swung open to reveal Mrs. Lee, already up, awake, and dressed, wearing a massive sun visor that made her have to literally tilt her head fully skyward to see him.
“Seungcheol - we’re going for walkies now, you go home and rest,” she said in that clipped way that always made him smile.
“I’m home, though - I can take her.” He didn’t reach for Kkuma’s lead. He knew when he wasn’t going to win with Mrs. Lee. He still made his attempts, though.
“Ah, we already decided, walkies now, and then after some dilly-dally time in the park, we’ll find Dad, right, Kkuma?” She disappeared completely from his view as she looked down to confer with Seungcheol’s very pampered dog. He nodded to the visor as Mrs. Lee continued cooing over Kkuma, knowing Mrs. Lee and Kkuma would do the half-mile to the park on Golden Ave. and do some route through on the trails he could never exactly replicate on his own, much to Kkuma’s chagrin.
He still felt like he was imposing. “What if I go with you?”
The visor was suddenly up, and Mrs. Lee was staring at him with concern. “Don’t you need sleep? Besides, we have fun.”
“I know - I know, but I like the park too…” And he already felt bad for being late, even if this was his shopping day. He tried to stick to his schedule.
She seemed to weigh whether he actually liked the park and finally nodded. “Okay. Fine. We’ll have girls time another morning.”
And then they were off at the particular breakneck pace that only LA county crosswalk signals managed to slow. It was brisk as fuck. And she nudged him whenever he started to check his phone when they were stalled at a street corner.
“This is walkies time - check your phone at home - you know, where there are not idiot drivers who pay no attention to pedestrians - you’ll be a pancake, and then it will just be me and Kkuma.”
He nodded and smiled and put his phone away. “Sorry,” he mumbled, catching up to her.
She hit his arm when he started to reach for his phone again at the next crosswalk - he knew your messages would pile up - he’d have to back-read…
“So who is she?” Mrs. Lee asked, voice full of certainty.
“It could be a he…” he didn’t know why he’d said that.
“Maybe, but I’ve only heard about ‘shes’ so far.”
He snorted. “Yeah, I – am I that obvious?”
“I like to think I know you somewhat, but you do get twitchy with your phone when there’s someone - and you’re extra twitchy - is it serious?”
She was worse than Mingyu and Soonyoung. He would take ‘describe the pressure of the kiss’ for $800 now. “Uh, I don’t know, actually - we’ve only been on one date so far…”
“But you’re still talking away? How many days ago was the date?”
“Almost a week.” He hadn’t even had to think about it.
She looked up at him with her knowing smile. “You like this one.”
He couldn’t lie - he didn’t need to. “I do—”
“But you’re thinking some silly thing that probably has never even crossed her mind?” she asked, interrupting any qualifiers Seungcheol might have given.
He could have rolled his eyes, but that would be rude…and Mrs. Lee probably had a point. They were already crossing into the park. “She just has a different kind of job,” he said it like it was a question - he wasn’t even sure exactly what his hang-up was at this point.
“What is she?” She barely paused before answering her own question. “A stripper? They make money, too…”
He laughed, covering his mouth quickly. “No - no…like corporate stuff.”
“Oh, she makes good money then?” she asked, rubbing her thumb against her fingers like someone from a film talking about ‘moola.’
“Probably.” He could only guess. He didn’t even know what number of dates were required for things like finances to be discussed.
“Good for her. What’s the problem? You make money, she makes money, buy a nice place and fill it with babies, then I can spoil them and Kkuma.”
“I don’t think we’re that far along—”
“You never know, maybe she’s already decided. I decided before my husband - he was like you, dumb ideas about things - I fixed that, though. We were married for 42 happy years,” she said it with a soft sigh and a smile.
Seungcheol grinned, fully certain that Mrs. Lee had fixed every problem that had come her way. Besides, he’d had dinner with her before, and he’d seen all the photos of the happy couple that decorated the apartment. “Things can happen, though,” he mumbled.
She shrugged. “Maybe, but you should be confident - you’re a nice boy - you keep a nice place - you have a job that keeps you in shape…those things matter more than you think.”
He shrugged, toeing the grass. “I met her because her fire alarm went off,” he admitted, glancing at the small figure next to him.
“Was it her fault?”
“Her roommate’s cooking experiment,” he said, remembering the toast.
“Sounds like she’s the responsible one, then.”
He hadn’t even thought about that. No, he’d been debating whether a gym selfie was right…he hummed.
“She asked me out.” He could feel the slight tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
“She wasn’t messing about then.”
He smiled. “We went to see the Dodgers, and she doesn’t even like baseball,” he said with a smile and shake of his head.
“Hmm, she’ll go do something she doesn’t like to spend time with you - doesn’t sound so bad so far.”
“She said not to think that—”
“That means you should.” Mrs. Lee patted his arm. “And she won’t disappear because you take time to go on walkies with Kkuma – you know how I know?” She looked up at him again and made a vague swirling motion with her hand like she was plucking the answer from behind his ear - for the drama, he knew. “Because your phone keeps making that little buzz-BUZZ sound, even I can hear it - you’ll go home to 30 messages,” she said with a smile, patting his arm again.
“It could be work,” he mumbled.
“They’d call.”
✦•┈๑⋅… 5 …·๑┈•✦
It was Thursday. You’d made it. You’d made it through most of the day anyway. And you hadn’t cancelled your date. Which was…you were a little concerned. Not because you didn’t want to go. You really, really did. It was literally what you kept reminding yourself of, that and triple-checking your messages that it was definitely today and not some other Thursday.
It was more like the idea of going home to locate an outfit that wasn’t a set of matching PJs was starting to feel less and less doable. You’d even had one of the gross ginger root shots - vile, by the way. And only semi-effective. You tried to shake it off - it was tapas! Tapas didn’t call for three hours of hair and makeup…and Seungcheol didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would be looking for that on a Thursday night anyway.
You couldn’t look like shit.
But jeans were probably fine. And you were leaving on time, even if you had to sneak out, which you didn’t think you’d need to, but you did take a few trips to hide in the stairwell when you thought someone might be approaching to ask for something extra. You left your sweater on your chair, though - the universal for ‘she’s still here - check back.’
You were currently on a stairwell sojourn, drinking a coffee from the break room and trying to mentally picture what non-work clothes were clean…and cute. There were jeans, and maybe an oversized rugby shirt? That was more chill vibes…less ‘I’ve had 32 shots of espresso so far this week.’ Your heart rate was basically the same as a hummingbird’s. You had this cute top that wrapped somehow, but that was giving like spring day or something. You looked up the restaurant again - it was cute and a little more sleek. Jeans and a blue Oxford shirt - white undershirt…shoes? You mentally swiped left on several pairs…you had these mules you’d been wanting to wear, so maybe those. And your hair was in good shape, so some touch-ups to your makeup and a quick wardrobe change were probably all you needed.
You were taking the metro anyway. You were not staring down any level of traffic. He had the day off. He’d offered to meet somewhere near you, but you hadn’t wanted that - you’d already done the date that was nearer to you.
You pressed your lips into a thin line - what if the date was very near him, you wondered. Would it be weird? Would he say if it were…you had no idea. You were meeting at his apartment and walking to the restaurant. Maybe it was time to see if you were already going to be disappointing for him? Rip off that particular band-aid earlier instead of trying to hold out and appear cool…
You hit dial and waited…there were more rings than normal. It was an Instagram call, though. The things people generally assumed were mistakes because they were. “Hi?” Ugh, his voice - so hot.
“Hi,” you said, checking over the railing to see if anyone else had popped in.
“We should swap numbers,” he said abruptly.
You smiled. “Yeah, it does feel a little fake, right?”
“A little…but what’s up?”
You hummed. “I’m that transparent, huh - uhhh,” you sighed and glanced around at the weird gray and orange walls. “Can I ask a favor?”
“You can ask anything…”
You felt the stupid grin that created. “Right, I can - um, tonight, could we maybe do take-away and just like hang out?” You scrunched your eyes closed, waiting to see if there was some massive sigh of annoyance. You were so used to the massive, long sighs.
“You mean not go out?”
“Yeah…that.” You held your breath slightly.
“So no loud people and no standing in line…”
You brightened slightly - he didn’t sound disappointed. “Umhm.”
“Yeah, we can do that.”
You smiled, laughing softly. “You’d rather stay in?”
“Almost always.”
You were still grinning. “Cute.”
“Usually I get ‘boring,’ but I’ll take ‘cute.’ Do you want me to meet you at the metro stop? I could place the order from there…”
You leaned against the wall, grinning harder somehow - of course, he would meet you at your stop - that was simply what one did in Seungcheol-world. “Yeah, that – that would be really nice,” you answered, voice softer.
There was a soft pause. “So good day?”
You scrunched your face. “Okay day,” you muttered, picking at your sleeve.
“‘Okay’ isn’t bad, though, right?”
“Right.”
Another beat of quiet, just him on the other end of the line, and you in the stairwell.
“Tell me when the metro does the loop at Downtown?”
It started to sink in - he was really going to meet you, like be waiting for you. “I will.”
“Good.”
Another small beat that you could have counted in banana increments but didn’t.
“Byeee.”
“Bye.”
You ended the call and groaned - he was lucky you hadn’t said ‘bye’ like five more times. You watched his message bubble pop up…and his actual number appear. You shook your head softly - disbelief washing through your brain that he was still sweet. Changes like not going out had been major issues before. It was nice that it wasn’t. Really, really, really, infinity times nice. And you’d still wear the same basic outfit - maybe the rugby shirt was back in the running, though.
You added his number and messaged him so he had yours. He was right that it felt less fake to have actually - finally - exchanged numbers. You watched the little heart react appear on your number. Had you maybe made his day by not wanting to go out? Maybe you’d finally found an introvert…you did tend to look at MBTIs on apps…and always pick the ‘E’ types, even though you were always annoyed when they were constantly ‘E’-ing. Maybe you needed an ‘I’ - maybe you were an ‘I.’ You searched for a quick MBTI quiz as you walked back to your desk.
No reason you couldn’t check.
˚⟡˖ ࣪࣪
You’d managed to leave at exactly 5:00 PM. And traffic was…whatever. It was more when you got home and needed to change that things became a little annoying. You knew roughly what you wanted to wear, like you had it narrowed - it was just a quick change. Except no, it wasn’t because Rei was in a mood to follow you around like a lost puppy from the moment you entered the house.
“Do you really have to go out?” she whined.
You’d found your jeans - now the shirt debate - rugby shirt or Oxford shirt…one had, well, no, they both had some buttons. And you were largely ignoring your roommate. She whined often, if not daily, about something. To your mind, it was maybe that she literally lived the kind of charmed life that was practically a satire of itself. And really, by ‘charmed’ you meant her Dad was richer than ‘as fuck’ could even start to describe. Which was fine mostly - you’d been roommates since your first year of college - year two had just meant that she invited you to live off campus at ‘one of’ her Dad’s places and you paid practically nothing. It’d been amazing because you had just a little bit more than nothing as a student - so it mathed.
It had mathed less and less since then. Especially on a night like this.
“Yes, I want to go, so chill out.” You’d already pulled on a white cropped tank top and your jeans of choice before she’d even barged in…you had also maybe taken a moment to pick cuter panties and a semi-matching bralette, which were details you could and possibly would take to your grave.
“Oh, come on - didn’t you already do the nasty? Why go all the way to Long Beach? It can’t be that good,” she said, her voice husky enough in that almost movie star way that came so close to making it feel like cute banter from a friend, instead of something totally asinine.
You rounded on her. “The nasty? Are you 13? And a boy?”
She shrugged. “For real, come onnn, stay in - I have weed and drinks, and there’s a million Love Island episodes…I reelly should have gotten that call back,” she concluded, doing the thing where she started dragging out her vowels weirdly to sound ‘posh’ before she flopped onto your bed.
You were fairly certain she hadn’t gotten the call back because she’d gone to the casting call not just with a hangover, but still literally drunk. Even Love Island casting had limits, apparently. Or just an insurance issue.
“Look, I just think that it was a laugh and now you should come back to normal life - stay in or go out with me because there is a party tonight and it’s supposed to be like everyone - EVERYone - is going - so you should go too…” she was still lying on your bed, messing with your duvet.
“What so I can be your boring friend in the corner?” That sounded harsher than you wanted, but you also really wanted to figure out your shirt problem…the Oxford looked good, almost sexy because you could control the number of buttons...
“You’re not boring - not that boring, anyway - but you’re my wing…girl, come onnn, don’t make me go alone,” she pleaded again.
You shook your head. “I’m busy tonight.” You were busy almost every night, actually. She’d never seemed to notice that.
“No, you’re heading off towards a night of additional boredom for some reason I can’t work out.”
You were going with the Oxford shirt with a white tank underneath - you headed to the bathroom, touched up your makeup, brushed your teeth…anything else? You stared around. Nothing. Still nothing. Shirt could go on now. No danger of getting stuff on it…
You walked out from the bathroom, grabbed your shirt and bag and decided quickly on some light pink Doc Martens because…walking - fuck - you needed cute socks - you sighed…grabbed some white socks with a cherry pattern, cuffed the hems of your jeans so you didn’t look like a - whatever the fuck - you didn’t care - you needed to catch the metro, not edit your internal monologue.
You stood up and found Rei slightly too close to you. This was getting fucking bonkers.
“Look - I don’t know how to tell you this,” you said it almost gently, as you grabbed her hands and held them like you reelly gave a shit in the moment - she was technically an old friend. “I like him - so stop being mean, and call someone else, okay? Love you, but seriously, I am busy,” you said it all in your best client service tone and with roughly the same forced smile.
And then you walked out.
She definitely followed you and continued like you had barely spoken. Wasn’t she the one who wanted you to start dating? You were out the door - it didn’t matter.
But you downloaded an apartment finder app as you found a spot on the metro car. It was probably time to think about finding your own place - not just time, more akin to long overdue.
You swiped around the map looking for places that looked interesting - none of the giant all-inclusive places - that was definitely not you…you wanted something that felt like it had some history, at least. Or just didn’t look like a cube of cubes, maybe?
Seungcheol had sent some menus that you swapped to. He recommended any of the places, leaving it up to you. You saw a curry and felt your mouth water slightly…he was serious, right?
You messaged for a few minutes about an order at the Curry House. And you figured out that he was serious - he did like it - just nothing super spicy for him.
A fact which you filed away as you heard the bing-bong for Downtown and messaged ‘at downtown.’ And feeling slightly shit…but you left that out. If you waited until you weren’t tired or weren’t stressed, you’d basically be a nun before you could see him again.
Still, it wasn’t the most auspicious start.
˚⟡˖ ࣪࣪
But you hadn’t wanted some Insta-perfect night, anyway. Kind of the opposite.
Plus, when you glanced out the window and saw him literally waiting, it was - you couldn’t help the dopey grin your face was suddenly arranging itself into…at least he was also wearing jeans and this like knit sweater that was like the nice boy version of his gym shirts. And you were thinking of all the thirst traps…seriously, his upper body, generally, was enough to send you spiraling, but why did his jeans show off his ass so well?…you wondered if it was too soon to touch it.
Probably.
Probably too soon to reveal that side of yourself…the absolute horn-dog side.
Besides, he was waiting. And didn’t look impatient or annoyed. You almost waved like a loon but tamped it down. It wasn’t like you’d traveled the world or been to war and only conversed via letters from the literal trenches…it’d been like a week. Even if he was looking kind of extra gorgeous by just showing up.
You worked your way towards the doors of the train car and walked out quickly in case any tourists had the idea to stampede. You walked to him, giving a small wave as you crossed your arms against the gentle wind that had started to pick up. He had his phone open, ready to order, just like he’d said.
You made it to him. “Hey,” you offered, still trying to control the stupid grin that wanted to take over your face - why was he so - whatever he was, you wondered as you noticed the wind barely tossing his hair. Thank the sky gods you were still at least wearing sunglasses and preserving some semblance of calm as you watched the insane display that Mother Nature was putting on for you. At least until he leaned in and kissed your cheek quickly before returning your ‘hey’ as he leaned away.
You smiled then. It was – exactly what you needed. You moved closer and looped your arm through his like you had when you’d been leaving the game the last time. “So was that like how you greet your Grandma and I should ignore it or—”
“No, it was like I – it felt right?” he asked, the slightest glint of concern somewhere deep in his eyes.
You nodded and squeezed his upper arm. “So which way is food?” you asked, voice soft - you leaned on his shoulder, confirming the kiss was right…because leaning on him also felt right.
It wasn’t a long walk. Maybe ten minutes. Which was just enough time for Seungcheol to decide that it was better if his arm was around your waist and that kissing you quickly on the temple while waiting for the lights at crosswalks to change was completely normal.
They were small kisses. Chaste pecks that meant you kept smiling and everything else from the day seemed like it had happened in another lifetime. You’d taken the metro and exited into some new territory not previously known, and there was still curry.
The line was quick.
But you still leaned on his shoulder, wondering slightly if you were about to have curry and maybe pick up where you’d left off? Not a bad idea…or maybe eat delicious curry and poke around his bathroom and then make out like horny teens once you established that he knew what Q-tips were - so many tantalizing options. You were spoiled for choice.
Besides, the walk back to his place was a bit calmer - you were heading away from other people, plus he had precious cargo now…curry and butter chicken and daal. None of that stopped your hand finding his free one - your fingers lacing easily with his as you walked a bit faster, which only made him laugh because ‘you don’t know the building.’ Which…fair. You didn’t.
“So tell me if I’m hot or cold,” you offered, walking past a crosswalk near an apartment complex, feeling him pull you back.
“Freezing cold,” he said with a smile, pulling your hand closer to his side as he watched for the light to change.
You groaned. “So where is it?”
“Close - like the next block, but it’s a shorter building—”
“Oh, shorter?” You couldn’t help being curious. Almost no one talked about being in a shorter building.
He nodded. “There’s ivy and stuff,” he added.
“In LA?”
He was still staring at the light, and you were staring at him, watching the smile that teased the corner of his mouth. “Well, in Long Beach there’s ivy,” he clarified, tearing his eyes away from the light for a moment, his smirk definitely teasing.
You had the urge to bite his shoulder in retaliation. Instead, you squeezed his hand and started off across the street at a faster pace the moment the light changed. It was one hundred percent faster than you had any business going. But you had two things to look for, though - it was shorter, and there was ivy - it’d stick out like a sort of big green thumb.
And it did…in the best way.
You paused when you found it, staring at the short brick building with the surprising cornices and the almost completely ivy-covered front…it even trailed to one side. It was just sandwiched between these two boring concrete blobs. And it had this massive wooden main door, and balconies that included fire escapes…it wasn’t what you’d imagined at all. You’d kind of assumed something cube-y - guys usually went with cube-y…past guys, old guys, not-Seungcheol-guys. They all liked the cube, especially when the cube had a basketball court listed as an amenity. This place, though, was the kind of place you loved finding, not just leftover from another era, but that someone had bothered to keep.
You were possibly enthralled. He had to pull your hand to get you moving again.
“Come on,” he mumbled, leading you down the side of the building to a set of covered side entrances with a privacy gate. You tried to imagine what search prompt he entered into which app to find this place. You’d seen guesthouses, cube apartments, and absolutely nothing was this interesting.
He managed to get you inside, which was maybe a mistake - in that once your shoes were off, you padded around behind him, staring at everything, especially a large Shinchan plush that peeked out from the edge of what looked like a loft. You glanced at it as you passed by to go to the kitchen with him…you would find out why the Shinchan seemed to be hiding. But also, how did a studio have a small kitchen, a full bathroom, and a washer and dryer at the back?
Otherwise, the standouts were the very gorgeous cognac brown leather sofa in the main room, the use of lamps instead of the Big Light™, and the fact that there was hardwood throughout that was somehow highlighted by the rug choices - saturated colors on a sort of warm pecan floor. It was coherent - and there were hand towels and soap dispensers. It was like a functioning human occupied the space and had tastes and preferences.
Brave new world, indeed.
You used the bathroom just to admire the fact that the soap dispenser had soap in it…but it also made the Shinchan more appealing. Because Seungcheol had only gestured to the loft and said it was the bedroom…but why was Shinchan out of the way, you wondered as you breathed in the lavender hand soap before rinsing and drying your hands. You stayed for a moment and checked out the small collection of face things and some cologne and one small framed piece of art that reminded you of something sort of like graffiti…and then you left before it was clear you were an absolute snoop of the highest order.
But the entire apartment was certainly planting a little hopeful seed in your mind that you could find a place - maybe you just needed to ask the person who’d managed to find this little gem…he was literally standing next to you, unpacking curry and asking whether you wanted a bowl or a plate.
“You have both?” you asked, not even trying to hide your smirk.
He rolled his eyes. “Are you also going to be shocked when I have actual silverware and not just a drawer of leftover takeaway spoons and forks?”
You nodded. “Naturally - I’ll fall over if you have glassware, too.”
He shook his head, smiling and reaching for a cupboard to open it - water glasses, juice glasses, and mugs - oh my!
You laughed at the display. “Oh, Choi Seungcheol, you know how to make a girl weak,” you mumbled and kissed his cheek. You were surprised when he turned, his lips catching yours gently - gently for a moment - gently until you felt his arm around your waist and the kiss deepening. He pulled away so slowly.
“All my pots and pans have their original lids, too,” he whispered, voice low, the slightest waggle of his brows.
“So sexy,” you answered, finally taking a bowl from him and helping yourself to the lovely curry and rice and naan that looked like it might reset your biological age to childhood.
You ate in the living room at the table in front of the sofa.
It was comfortable and easy. And the music he picked was markedly different - he’d asked about music vaguely a few days before and got you to admit that you did like jazz.
You stared at the phone for a moment, wondering what else he’d gently wangled out of you…the sneaky sneak. It was another tally under the column of ‘he is sexy,’ though…and maybe even went under the column of ‘he likes me.’
“So how was the metro?”
You hummed. “Normal, but my standards are at sea level - as long as I’m not driving, it’s acceptable.”
“So it could have smelled like the inside of a gym bag?”
“I’d still take it…” you admitted, voice flat.
“But plates and bowls?”
You winced. “Look, I’ve found myself in places where a spork would have been a delight?”
“Hence avoiding apps?”
“Precisely why I avoid apps…and anyone my roommate suggests - I’ve learned - that’s almost always for the bit,” you mumbled.
“Really?”
You nodded, glancing at him. “You know, don’t you have one of those friends who like 80% of their existence is so they can have a story to tell?”
He watched you with slightly wide eyes. “No.”
You pushed his shoulder. “Bully for you - seriously, no one who commits too hard to some bullshit?” you asked, clarifying, and sipping your beer.
You could see the crack starting to form as he mentally flipped through some friendship Rolodex. “Yeah, okay, okay…I wouldn’t live with any of them, though.”
“No?”
He shook his head emphatically and popped more chicken into his mouth.
You nodded. “Probably smart. It was fine before, but I think I should maybe branch out,” you said, swiping curry up with your naan.
“Like move?” he asked, glancing at you.
“Yeah…like it’s her Dad’s, so you know, cheap rent, but I don’t want to put out toast fires anymore.”
He scrunched his brows. “Please say you don’t have more toast on your lawn…”
You smiled. “No - you would have heard.”
He sighed and leaned back against the sofa, his head tipping back onto the seat for a moment. He groaned, rubbing his stomach for a moment and finally leaning up, glancing at you.
“That good?”
He nodded. “Perfect…”
You grinned and went back to your own food and your sour beer because he’d remembered that you liked sours. And when he picked up some beer, he apparently saw them…and now you had special sour beer sitting in his fridge.
You turned. “So what about you? Your day?”
He shrugged. “Mostly quiet,” he answered with a sigh.
Glancing again, you wondered if it was really that quiet.
He smiled. “Sometimes everything is quiet - shifts are quiet besides normal dumb things.”
Of course you rounded on that. “Normal dumb things?”
He grinned. “I helped Soonyoung film a dance challenge…”
Everything stopped for a moment so you could locate the dance challenge and confirm that Seungcheol was not visible in the video.
“Disappointed?”
“No, it would have been cute, though…another side to you, and all that,” you said, locking your phone and putting it away.
“I don’t think competent dancing is one of the sides,” he murmured, still leaning against the sofa.
You were almost finished eating. “I didn’t say you needed to be competent—”
“No, but to me, definitely required,” he said, voice soft.
It was quiet for a moment.
“But, for you, quiet and silly things mean a good day - nothing serious?”
He hummed. “Yeah, all quiet is the best case.”
It was weird to think about the number of times something was referred to as a ‘fire drill’ in your office, all because Ted or Kevin or whoever was just really shit at client communications. And it was also weird to think that someone you knew actively did something risky for work. You didn’t especially want to think about it…instead, you leaned on the sofa and smoothed his bangs off his forehead. He really, genuinely, had annoyingly clear skin - you weren’t sure you could even spot a pore.
“You’re like safe, though, right?”
His eyes barely opened. “Worried?”
You glanced away for a moment before finding his gaze again. “Apparently,” you murmured, your fingers tracing along his jaw.
“Just assume dance videos unless…I say it’s not dance videos - or admin - there’s always admin,” he sighed.
You leaned against him, then, letting the quiet come back. You had no idea when your brain had decided that worrying for Seungcheol was an active thing running in the background. But you’d said it, so it must be.
˚⟡˖ ࣪࣪
You helped with carrying things back to the kitchen. You dawdled, going to the bathroom to check your hair for a few minutes before you made your way back through the small kitchen to the main room. Seungcheol was on the sofa - you paused for a moment in the hallway, noticing the back of his neck…what if you kissed him there in passing? He’d kissed you already…you tilted your head, considering and decided the angle wasn’t right. Annoying.
So you walked back out to the living room, to your sour beer, and your…Seungcheol, flicking through movies to watch.
You dropped next to him, happily feeling the sofa and the way it held you. There was a blanket and throw pillows. You ignored them in favor of his arm sliding around your waist and pulling you close, so you could lean against him, your cheek against his chest. You let your arm snake around his waist.
“So why is Shinchan hiding?” you asked.
“Hmm?” he glanced down at you from the projected screen.
You pointed up towards the loft. “Shinchan?”
His eyes followed your finger. “It’s nothing.”
You sighed. “Definitely something then.”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Are you embarrassed?”
“No,” he said flatly.
You grinned at the ‘no,’ your fingers tracing along his side, feeling the smooth muscle under the buttery soft knit fabric. “Totally embarrassed,” you mumbled, nuzzling closer against his chest.
“No - he - it doesn’t go with stuff,” he mumbled.
You couldn’t help smiling, feeling like you’d won, just a bit.
Shinchan definitely went with things…
You let your fingers trace up until you felt his ribs - you could hear the longer pauses on various movie trailers. You bit your lower lip gently.
There were only two small lamps on because movies…
“Seungcheol,” you murmured.
He hummed again.
“What if you found lo-fi or something?” you asked - voice truly, hand on heart, innocent as the driven snow, as you glanced up at him.
There was a pause. “Why?” he asked, looking down at you, gaze focused like he was sizing you up.
You shrugged. “Long day,” you whispered - your bottom lip barely catching between your teeth.
He hummed, but it was a lower tone this time. “Long day?” he echoed.
You nodded, letting your fingers shift and splay over his stomach. “So long…”
You watched him swallow and glance quickly at the screen, changing apps and scrolling for maybe three seconds before there was some vaporwave aesthetic moving screen saver and lo-fi playing.
You giggled when you felt your back hit the sofa.
And the way his lips immediately went to your throat, kissing and sucking gently, then licking and biting his way lower. You hummed, enjoying that he might have been thinking about this exact kind of moment. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you moaned softly - your fingers catching in his hair, pulling gently when he slid the collar of your shirt to the side and placed a line of wet kisses along your clavicle. You pulled his hair roughly, wanting his lips on yours. He leaned up with a soft moan, lips finding yours, biting gently, deepening it. Your hand slid down the neck of his shirt, your nails barely making little half moons against his skin as he licked into you. You felt his hand tracing along your thigh - you rolled your hips up against his…
And then his phone beeped.
He leaned up quickly, checking it. “Shit,” he mumbled.
“What’s wrong?”
He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “I need to walk Kkuma.”
Your brows went up, still uncertain. “Kkuma?”
“My dog – she’s with my neighbor,” he said with a groan.
You smiled. “Seriously?”
You could see the pink blooming higher on his cheeks.
“I just - I wasn’t sure how you’d feel…maybe she’d be too much,” he said with a shrug.
You hummed and reached up, smoothing the mess that you’d both made of his hair. “It’s okay - you hid Shinchan, too,” you said with a grin. “Poor Seungcheol,” you murmured, letting your fingers trace along his jaw. “So thoughtful and handsome,” you added.
His hand caught yours gently, kissing the backs of your fingers before he sat up. He glanced at you with a smile. “Maybe I just wanted to fuck,” he said with a shrug.
You giggled - like he could be that nonchalant - the man who had accidentally played Cyndi Lauper in his desperate bid to not reveal his gym playlist. “Still handsome - still 99.9% sweet, and, I guess, 0.1% fuck boi,” you corrected.
He shook his head. “Just the 0.1%…okay - she’s upstairs.”
You nodded, sitting up, finger combing your hair. “Can I come?”
“Yeah,” he said, standing and fixing his shirt - he offered you a hand, pulling you up. You let him straighten your shirt and look you over. “Do I look like - you know?” he asked.
You smiled and neatened his collar. “No, you basically look like you had dinner and sort of watched a film.”
˚⟡˖ ࣪࣪
You followed him through the building and up the back stairs. He stopped outside a second-floor apartment, knocking lightly. You heard some noise from inside, and then the door swung open to reveal a petite, older woman with amazingly iron-gray hair. She wore a pink floral dressing gown with silver slippers and was accompanied by a small white dog that wasn’t even barking. You could hear the TV playing - you recognized it…Love Island.
“Seungcheol?” she asked, voice a whisper.
“I came to see if she needs a walk,” he said quietly.
“Ah, we went after dinner, but probably - she can come back, though - we’re watching our show.”
“It’s okay,” he glanced at you, looking sheepish. “I probably shouldn’t have bothered you.”
“Kkuma staying isn’t a bother. Anyway, introduce us,” she said it with a voice that knew what the next part was and wanted to get to it.
You smiled and walked forward to be introduced, first to Mrs. Lee and then to Kkuma. Mrs. Lee smiled and asked how dinner was. “Amazing,” you answered.
She nodded like she hadn’t expected any other answer. “Good, now go on walkies - I’ll pause the show until you're back.”
You grinned. How could you not?
She picked up Kkuma and handed her to you, while Seungcheol was handed the lead and bags and hand sanitizer. Kkuma was immediately the cutest lump of fluff - with these silly long bangs and big boba eyes. You couldn’t help hugging her gently - she was so warm and cozy like she’d just come from a lap when she was half asleep.
You followed Seungcheol outside with her and held her while he attached her lead to her collar.
He stared for a moment.
“What?” you asked.
“You have to put her down,” he said.
“Oh,” you pouted and sat her down. It felt rude. She glanced up at you like she agreed with the sentiment. “Sorry,” you mumbled to Kkuma.
He shook his head. “No, not you too - she’s already a baby.”
“Is that so bad?”
He watched you for a moment. “We were fully doing things…and stopped - she’s massively babied.”
You grinned and put your arm through his. “She’s so cute, though.”
“She’s watching Love Island with Mrs. Lee…”
“I know,” you yawned and leaned on his shoulder. “I wonder if it’s a good episode?”
You walked with them around the block twice - the first time was apparently for sniffing and the second time was for peeing on what seemed to be a very specific shrub, which would have made you laugh if you weren’t feeling so tired. You hadn’t especially thought about the part where you went home…or you had, but that was ages ago when you were also looking for apartments. A million years before curry and the good sour beers…
You followed him back in to return Kkuma to Mrs. Lee. Apparently, she had genuinely paused the show waiting for Kkuma to come back. And then you walked back to Seungcheol’s, leaning against his back while you waited for him to unlock his door.
“Want to stay?” he asked, closing the door.
You’d taken your shoes off. It wasn’t your plan. Even if you hadn’t thought as specifically about leaving, you had planned generally to leave, and checked a timetable at some point and snapped a screenshot. You glanced around, looking for some logic to appear and suggest a barrier…
“You’re tired - borrow some clothes, take a shower. I’m off tomorrow, too, so I can drive you back in the morning.”
You finally looked at him. He was leaning against the wall near the door, watching you.
You remembered that you had definitely been doing things with him…you nodded. “It’s a work-from-home day, so I can still do the metro—”
“Or I can get breakfast for you and drop you off after, and then maybe you’ll have a less shitty day.”
“I said it was mostly okay…”
“Right, from the stairwell.”
You shrugged. “It’s the easiest break spot.”
He shook his head. “Just come on - come ogle the fact that I have a clean bathtub…”
“There’s a full bathtub?” How had he found this place?
“You didn’t check?” he asked, glancing suspiciously over his shoulder.
“I’m not opening shower curtains…” There were boundaries, plus horror movies told you that’s where the dead bodies were, anyway.
“Umhm…”
He ushered you along as he did things, grabbing clothes for you, turning on the taps. You had the feeling that if things were further along, he would have showered with you or at least stayed around to talk…but they weren’t.
So you were left alone to sniff his soaps and shampoo like an absolute toiletry pervert. None were overtly ‘boy’ scented…nothing tagged ‘spring’ or ‘mountain’ or ‘blood spurt’ or ‘it’s just grappling - no homo.’ Instead, he had something minty from a brand you knew - there actually were other sides to him, despite his suggesting there weren’t…at least not dance-y sides. There was definitely the side that had made this purchasing decision, though, for instance…
He showered after you. Meanwhile, you sat on the sofa, toweling your hair, and pondering when you’d actually become this tired. At least you would see Shinchan, you thought with a wry smile. And you didn’t mind that you’d gone with him to walk Kkuma…you’d literally forgotten how tired you were somehow. Weirdo boy magic - that was the only explanation.
Maybe horniness, too…
“Come on,” he said from somewhere near your side. You nodded and got up, following along. He’d loaned you a washed soft t-shirt and sweats. You went first up the stairs, noticing how tight the spiral was - it was slightly disorienting. There was room to avoid hitting your head in the loft space, though. You weren’t that short, but even Seungcheol didn’t seem in danger of bumping his head.
You waited while he put towels over the pillows. He was going to sleep with damp hair too. “Want Shinchan?” he asked.
You smiled, shaking your head. “Just you,” you said from behind your hand as you yawned.
He nodded, moving closer, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close. You were already drifting.
You heard the soft ‘could have cancelled,’ as he nuzzled close.
That brought you back - your brows scrunching as you turned around. “Cancelled? Why?” you asked.
“You’re tired - a bad week? Those are reasonable things to say.”
You watched him for a moment, wondering what he was thinking. “That’s the kind of thing I say to people when I don’t want to see them,” you said, smoothing his hair. “I wanted to see you - I had a nice time, like really nice,” you whispered, kissing his cheek before turning back over and pulling his arm around you while you snuggled closer.
˚⟡˖ ࣪࣪
fic navigation: master list ↩️ | ▶️ part 1 | ⏩ part 2 | ⏩ epilogue
a/n: okay fr i hope you enjoyed this - it's my first like multi-big brick fics on tumblr and i really hope you had fun with these two ^^
♡ 𝚝𝚘𝚊𝚜𝚝
p.s. i kind of want a mingyu follow-up piece where he finds the right person LOL
read more here mingyu m.list | seungcheol m.list | general m.list
dividers by @/cursed-carmine (lace) & @/cursed-carmine (mdni)
and AND thank you for complimenting that there’s a growing physical connection bcs the entire fic is basically about their growing relationship and now i know someone noticed 🥹🤍🤍 thank youuuu
>>> the one where a fire alarm gets you a date and then some
fic navigation: master list ↩️ | ▶️ part 1 | ⏩ part 2 | ⏩ epilogue
pairing: c.sc / f!reader
summary: it starts with some toast on fire, and turns into a date and maybe the love of your life - OR - you’re an over-tired corporate worker who meets a handsome firefighter who makes you realize that there might be more to life than jumping through every hoop work gives you
𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐮𝐭
word count: 16.8k
genre tags: alternate universe - modern world | non-idol-au | firefighter!cheol | soft!cheol | corporate girlie!reader | slice of life | meet-cute | romance | romcom | idiots in love | eventual smut (see chapter warnings) | domestic af | hospitals (no one dies) | pov swaps | plot with porn | found family | reader hates dating apps | reader has stressful job | sort of svt fire station | semi-text chat | Kkuma included |
a/n: misspellings in dms between characters are intentional andddd yeah, just enjoy ^^ like, reblog, or generally let me know if you also kind of love their world bcs i actually do and kept adding to this and worrying about having too many paragraphs for a single post - and now it's in parts soooo oops ;-; thx for reading with me tho - this is my first like one big long fic here eekkkk, okie byeee and if you prefer reading longer works on ao3
✦•┈๑⋅… 1 …·๑┈•✦
You had been scrolling apps aimlessly when your friend asked how dating was going.
You shrugged. “Fine,” you’d mumbled.
‘Fine’ was more like a deflection, not an adjective. It was meant to end the conversation, not spur it the fuck along.
“You’ve got to find someone,” came Rei’s voice - she was so certain.
You rolled your eyes. “I really don’t, though.”
“Okay, but you’ll be the sad, lonely one learning how to Heimlich yourself,” she muttered, with a judging glance.
“I’m never watching 30 Rock with you again,” you groaned, and chucked a pillow at her.
You really hated dating apps. They were so impersonal. Plus all the stats said there were way more women on them anyway - like the chances of matching were so low to begin with.
Besides, you weren’t exactly throbbing for some dude who’d just leave crumbs everywhere, and make extra garbage, and have meat sweats mid-fuck.
Maybe you could ask your dealer out, you thought - that’d shut Rei up, surely, you guessed.
Anyway, you weren’t wading into fucking Bumble, or Hinge, or any of the other spaces again.
If you were going to meet a guy, it’d be irl, thank you very much.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
Rei was a good friend. And a mostly fine roommate.
She was less great when it came to things like not setting off the fire alarm when she forgot toast.
She was even worse when she was stoned and forgot that the bread even existed and wandered off to find saltwater taffy in her desk drawer.
So it wasn’t shocking that the fire alarm went off, waking you with its insistent PING-pinging sounds.
You bolted up and out of bed, running downstairs to find smoke billowing from under the kitchen door - fuck, fuck - this was bad, you thought as you pushed the door and went in.
At least it was localized. Just two tiny infernos in the oven.
You made it to the kitchen in time to shut everything off.
However, you didn’t make it in time to stop your security company from contacting emergency services.
And now you were stood on your front lawn, trying to explain to a fire…person that yes, the fire was, in fact, out.
You were in a very unsexy robe, terry cloth with big ol’ stripes, feet jammed into your massive yellow snow boots because those were the shoes in the hall closet of death, and a baseball cap tossed on to hide your bed head when the fire truck appeared.
You were absolutely fucking mortified. Because it was two pieces of toast! But you also couldn’t really do anything but handle it since Rei was happily passed out.
Fucking twat, you’d determined, lovingly, when you checked on her.
The fire department, though, you played every stupid card you could to explain about your friend the terrible cook.
At 2:15 AM.
On a Tuesday.
The main guy seemed to accept the idea of two dumb females.
Of course he would.
The guy next to him, though, he was younger and seemed to be taking it all in with a slight smirk.
He had a look like: (1) he didn’t believe you anymore than he could throw you regarding the idea that you’re-just-dumb, and (2) he kept glancing at your baseball cap like it was genuinely laughable.
It was distracting - who was he to judge your hat?
You kept looking to the side, registering the smirk from the peanut gallery.
So what if you noticed that the peanut gallery had gorgeous lips, and large eyes that flicked from your cap to your face - he wasn’t eyeing your tits, at any rate.
The main guy huffed. Hard. Something about a report to file and wandered off.
You apologized profusely, pointing to the remnants of the burned toast on the front lawn as evidence that the fire was definitely OUT.
You’d flung both pieces out the kitchen window with total abandon.
Fucking toast.
You were lucky not to be getting a citation. But there was some fine for a false alarm and response. You’d be checking the mail for that.
What an absolute fucking headache.
You sighed, muttering a small ‘thanks’ to the firefighters for their time. The second guy, Mr. Peanut, was still smirking.
You couldn’t help it when you met his gaze - he was really fucking fine. You’d finally looked since his boss was stomping away.
“What?” You asked quickly, genuinely wondering what was so funny.
“That hat,” he pointed, “kind of an insane choice, no?” He asked, voice low and sweet.
Oh, he was cute. And had one of those voices. Fuck.
You were quick to pull it off and see it was one from your home city - The Mets.
You were firmly in Dodgers land. You rolled your eyes and jammed it back on your head. “It’s called fashion, lance corporal —“
He snorted. “Fire Captain,” he corrected gently.
“Yeah, well, Fire Captain, I don’t even keep up with any teams,” you trailed off.
He smiled, a cute smile. “No? Maybe you should try a game sometime,” he suggested, voice soft.
You eyed him - he was definitely fit, tall, handsome. Definitely not staring out at you from your phone screen.
“That an offer?” You’d blurted it before you could even think.
He smiled, teeth showing. Really fucking cute. He glanced over his shoulder and then gave a small nod. “Just uh,” he glanced back, “you know, call the station, not 9-1-1, ask for Captain Choi?”
You found yourself nodding.
✦•┈๑⋅… 2 …·๑┈•✦
“So, did she call?” Mingyu asked. He was sitting across from Seungcheol and already halfway through his food somehow.
They’d barely sat down - and already with the question.
Seungcheol groaned. “Stop asking,” he muttered, digging into his chili and regretting that he’d told Mingyu anything. “And stop blabbing about it.” He shook his head, knowing his friend was a loudmouth. Unintentionally, usually, but still.
Besides, he didn’t want to talk about the girl in the Mets hat. And he didn’t want everyone in the station to know. All he needed was Soonyoung to find out…then the gc.
He just wanted to eat his lunch.
His shift was almost over, and then he had two days off to crash and game and - shit - pick up dry cleaning because one of their friends had the nerve to get married and he needed a suit.
Fuck - he’d definitely forgotten the wedding thing…maybe because of the girl in the Mets hat. It wasn’t the only false alarm they’d gotten in the last few days, but watching her walk out every version of ‘I’m-just-a-girl’ was entertaining, especially when she’d given him a new rank and title.
He’d not mentioned that part. He knew Mingyu, and ‘Lance Corporal Choi’ would have become a nickname way too quickly - he’d have to be reassigned to a station on the East Coast for it to maybe end.
Why he’d even told Mingyu at all was a mystery - Mingyu was too positive to share things like that with.
Besides, Seungcheol hadn’t given her his number because he was on duty and responding to a call, and that would definitely have looked weird. Plus, she was totally out of his league.
Someone living in Echo Park was not calling him.
He’d already made peace with that fact.
Now he just needed Mingyu to do the same.
“Look,” he started as he ate, “be more helpful and ask me whether I picked up my suit for the wedding thing, okay?”
“Did you?” Mingyu asked flatly.
“No - I mean like ask me tomorrow when I’m off.”
“So be your reminder?” Mingyu asked, brows arched.
Seungcheol shrugged. “More helpful than asking me about whether some random girl calls the station,” Seungcheol said as he ate.
Mingyu sighed. “Dude - save these requests for Mets Girl, or - just hear me out - there are these things on your phone called apps…and there’s one called ‘reminders’ – boom – mind-blowing shit, right?” Mingyu asked with an annoyingly condescending smirk.
Seungcheol rolled his eyes and gave Mingyu the finger. “Such a prick,” he mumbled as he finished his lunch and started to leave the table.
“But a prick with a date to Jeonghan’s wedding,” Mingyu added, still smirking…like a prick.
Suddenly, Seungcheol was glad they were on alternating shifts because it was that kind of comment that really annoyed him. What did it matter if he went stag? His life wasn’t over because he hadn’t asked anyone.
Still, their shifts weren’t completely alternating.
On a normal day, he’d be looking forward to when they were back on the same rotation. He’d almost always rather be on shift with Mingyu than not. Not that he didn’t trust anyone else, but he and Mingyu had known each other since training. And even if he trusted everyone, he always trusted Mingyu a little bit more.
Which made it even more irksome that Mingyu cared about his dating life. And brought it up. And had filled out multiple dating profiles for Seungcheol.
Seungcheol had checked the Hinge profile once and was surprised to find that he apparently enjoyed rock climbing on the weekends. He hadn’t even bothered to change it because he’d never use the app, so what did it matter if all the details were bogus?
˚⟡˖ ࣪
The problem was the texts he woke up to on Thursday morning. He was off and lying in bed at home.
[k.mingyu]
𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚍𝚍𝚍
𝚏𝚘𝚛 fire captain 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒
𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚞 𝚍𝚞𝚍𝚎
𝚋𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎
Staring at the texts, still blinking away sleep - he typed something about ‘stop bothering me’ and deleted it. He just wasn’t sure Mingyu was serious.
[seungcheol]
dude
it’s early
[k.mingyu]
i waited
told her to call back fri. bcs that’s ur next shift
[seungcheol]
surrprised u didn’t give her my number
[k.mingyu]
on duty
or i woould have 10000%
u need a date
Groaning loudly enough to get an odd look from Kkuma, Seungcheol flopped back against his pillows, muttering ‘sorry’ in the direction of her basket.
Still, he did not need a date. He needed to drop off dry cleaning and buy some food besides cereal…those were needs.
He also had to make sure that suit still fit - at least the wedding was still six weeks away…besides, how was he supposed to know that she would actually call him?
Lying there, in the privacy of his own apartment, he could admit that she was really cute that night too.
She’d looked gently insane. And really good too.
The entire outfit was madness - he’d had to stare at her hat to keep a straight face - and the Mets too, what a shit team - and the toast on the lawn - just these two beyond crispy little briquettes because, of course, throw them on the lawn…during an LA summer. Nothing bad could come from that.
Remembering the way she turned to him to ask, “what?” only made him snort.
[seungcheol]
did she rlly call
[k.mingyu]
yes
srsly i wouldn’t joke abt a grl
ur a hermit
[seungcheol]
we can’t all be u
And fuck everything with a pulse, Seungcheol thought with a grin. Mingyu was known to attract every sort of girl and then struggle to say anything but ‘yes.’ Which made for great stories around the station…
[k.mingyu]
duh
u just ignore when ppl like u
or freak out n do nothing
Seungcheol scowled. He didn’t freak out. Nothing was sort of accurate - he usually didn’t make a lot of moves. And he wasn’t going to argue with hermit - half of the reasons he went out were to take Kkuma on walks or for other Kkuma-related things. And when he was on duty, he left her with the little old lady upstairs, Mrs. Lee - so he basically left his house to walk his dog or to visit someone else’s grandma who watched his dog…
Actually, the more he thought, the more he knew that Mrs. Lee probably knew more about him than his last girlfriend had…she knew what he did for a living, his schedule (she had a printed copy that he updated monthly), where he was from, where his family was from, his favorite dishes, that he didn’t like things too spicy…maybe he did have a date for Jeonghan’s wedding.
She did often refer to him as a ‘nice young man.’
He rolled onto his stomach to hide the way he was laughing at the idea, which wasn’t actually that bad of an idea - he knew her family didn’t visit her very often, and old people seemed to enjoy weddings…plus, Mingyu would shit a brick.
He buried his face in his pillow.
He was on his second nap of the morning. He’d been up early to walk Kkuma and pick up some milk from the bodega.
And then he’d come home and passed out for a bit…and woke up for a bit…maybe Mingyu had texted at a normal time…he didn’t know.
But apparently, on Friday, there would be a call. He yawned and flopped onto his back, deciding that he should maybe try to be positive.
He heard Kkuma’s collar jingle and then the sounds of her padding over to circle the stairs she didn’t like.
The joy of a studio apartment with a loft for the “bedroom” was that his bed wasn’t technically in his living room - it was over the kitchen and had enough room for him to sit up without whacking his head, but it was only accessible by way of these weird, wiry little spiral stairs that Kkuma never seemed to trust.
He’d realized the mistake quickly when she was a puppy, and he’d basically lived on his sofa to avoid Kkuma whining.
And now, he knew she probably wanted him up, or at least on the sofa where she could jump up too.
Little doggie demands were definitely something that he regularly gave in to, and he wasn’t embarrassed about that. Sitting up and running a hand through his hair, his mind lingered because…she’d actually called him.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
Besides the obvious fire emergency that wasn’t actually. You were in the middle of a fairly shit-show week.
Also, you weren’t sure if you were really meant to call the local fire station or not - you had looked it up during your commute, though. Fire station number 20.
And then you’d seen him in the station’s photos and immediately locked your phone like he would somehow cosmically know you’d searched for him.
But the embarrassment was real.
He’d seen you after you’d raided the closet that literally existed to absorb all the crap you and Rei collected and couldn’t be asked to actually put away when one of you cleaned - just throw it in the closet…and look like you fell into a pile of old tat just in time to meet a cute guy.
Sitting in your cubicle Tuesday morning, staring down at your first coffee of the day, you decided that closet had to be addressed.
You were less certain about calling him, though. Because it wasn’t even him, exactly; it was a station…if it was like calling your office, there was a receptionist and a phone tree and…you didn’t love the idea.
Especially if it wasn’t serious.
Stirring your coffee, you considered if his saying to call and who to ask for constituted seriousness of purpose. Luckily, your inbox started its normal explosion, which distracted you totally until you left the office at 2:23 PM to grab the burrito you’d ordered.
You were a regular at the place, even though it was standing room only for eating. You were pretty sure that standing only meant they didn’t have to offer a bathroom to customers. Which was fine; you could stand and watch people milling around the plaza that led to Angel’s Flight, which you kind of loved. The little orange and black rail-ish car that you sometimes walked to and rode up and down just to be out of the office.
It was like $1.50 for some level of sanity.
Just like your burrito. And standing and staring at something besides your computer or the office’s ceiling or the gray fabric of your cubicle’s walls.
You unlocked your phone, and it immediately showed you where you’d left off - seeing Fire Captain Choi’s face (and others, of course) next to a giant number 20.
The burrito made you feel more confident that you weren’t disturbing the particles of the universe by reading the caption and seeing that it was actually “Fire Captain Seungcheol Choi.”
And now you knew his first name.
But still not whether he was actually expecting you to call.
Which was a silly thought - you knew you - you’d call.
You just needed the correct level of burrito to settle your stomach. You had called guys before.
Just pre-apps…and usually it was a text about class or something.
Shit. What did you do before apps?
You clicked around to find the number for the station, and noticed that there was a Yelp! page… which was wild to see since it was a public service…not a donut shop. Still, you poked around the main webpage hoping that there were different lines, like for an operator or something, but no - just the one number to call.
But you’d finished your burrito, and you had a client call to prep for, anyway.
You could only hope that it would keep…and not be too weird.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
Wednesday was an early day.
You started checking emails before you were out of bed to see what might have happened overnight - nothing that was literally immediate. So you’d gotten up, found a quick YouTube yoga session, grabbed a shower but not your hair - dry shampoo would work for another day…and then you’d grabbed a yogurt, a granola bar, and a protein shake for breakfast and a little wheel of cheese and some nuts for a snack…otherwise, you would stress eat ALL of the BBQ flavored chips in the breakroom.
You might still.
You got to the office by 7:45 AM and were only minimally sweaty.
You ate at your desk.
And no burrito time because there were changes that someone wanted to the formatting of all the tables and charts…so you ordered a green bowl and the de-stress green drink and a ginger shot in the group order that the admin had started.
You knew the ginger shot well - it was vile, but it did wake you up.
It was one of those days where even going to the bathroom felt timed. Not in a visible way, but going always risked that that would be exactly when someone would ‘not be able to find you.’ Because bodily functions ceased to exist if there was a deliverable, somehow. At least in the minds of your colleagues, anyway.
And then there was dinner - a team dinner to celebrate another job ending. You’d thought you could slip out of it, but no - it was planned - someone had flown in…therefore, an Irish goodbye was not the fuck happening.
You lingered at your desk a bit so you could at least Uber to the restaurant on your own. And for once, you loved LA traffic because it gave you a solid twenty-five minutes of quiet.
Or it would have…if you hadn’t started talking to your driver.
But he was nice in that way that was endearing and easily approachable, and when you started off by asking if you could get his opinion, he was locked in like you’d known one another since childhood.
By the time you were getting your first drink, you’d been told emphatically to call that fire station!
You’d almost done it in the Uber, but his app had pinged for a pickup. He’d wished you good luck, though.
And anyway, at least you’d talked to someone about it. And they thought it was a genuine offer, partially because “man was at work, and he still dropped his name. MAMA come on.”
Did it maybe confirm your own thoughts? Yes.
But that was okay.
And once you’d had two cocktails, you slipped out to the balcony and dialed the number.
You listened to the first ring, and before there could even be a second one - “Fire Station 20, Specialist Kim speaking.”
The voice was so quick and abrupt. “Uh, hi - sorry, someone told me to call? And now that feels slightly weird…” Your voice trailed off, and you definitely wanted to hang up.
There was barely a pause. “Seungcheol - he’s not on shift, but I’ll tell him that the Mets Girl called - he’s back on Friday, and I feel like he’s got a pile of paperwork, so call like early when he’ll be in the office.”
You couldn’t help the small laugh at the informational deluge. “That’s extremely specific—”
“I know, but I’m not a fan of missed connections, so Friday, like 0800 - solid chance that he’ll be the only person in the office then, too.”
You nodded, still smiling. “Okay, Friday - thanks.”
And the call ended - not with a nasally operator or a phone tree debacle - just very specific directions from someone who knew Seungcheol.
It was maybe less nerve-inducing to know that apparently he had told someone that you were going to call…still, there was Thursday to get through.
And then the actual call.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
Thursday dragged at a literal sloth’s pace. But uphill. So maybe it was just a human pace, but going up an extremely steep incline…the nuance did not matter.
The day was a fucking slog until you were in your car and experiencing zero traffic because it was like 1:00 AM - it was technically Friday.
It was technically Friday, and all you wanted to do was pass out under a rock without wifi or cell signal for the next three days.
But while you were sitting at a tremendously long red light on West Sunset, you remembered that you were supposed to call Seungcheol…today. 0800 according to the voice who’d answered the call.
You weren’t sure if you could think of a less sexy scenario - a scheduled call with a member of the male species after other members of that species had given you endless tedious fucking notes on your report section, including that the shadow they’d requested for their tables was slightly larger than what they preferred…it was the kind of thing that made you consider physical violence.
But, no, you’d made it through. And you’d be revived by 0800.
You exhaled a long, slow breath and stared at the stupid red light, willing it to CHANGE.
And once it finally did - you made it home, parked. And autopiloted yourself to your room. You didn’t even change for bed or pull the duvet down - you just face planted.
Sleep was good.
But your 6:00 AM alarm was bad. Still, you sat up somehow, blinking into existence and hoping a shower would get your brain online.
You were in the office by 7:45 AM - again.
And you left to get breakfast - and to call.
You felt like being on the plaza near a coffee shop was better than your normal choice of hiding in the stairwell.
The call was still scary - that whole one ring and ANSWER thing, which was probably great when the caller had an actual emergency. Maybe he would let it ring twice, though - maybe?
You jammed your headphones in and tapped to dial.
One ring. Literally.
“Fire station 20, Captain Choi speaking.”
It was so crisp - he sounded rested, even - how dare he. “Um, right, hi,” you croaked - you weren’t a wizened crone of anything, scout’s honor. You squeezed your eyes closed. “I’m - uh - I’m the false-alarm-burnt-toast-Mets-hat-girl, and I don’t know if you were serious about my calling or not…” Your voice trailed off into the fucking ether.
You could feel the pause - he was definitely deciding something. “I - yeah, I was, actually.”
Nodding, you opened your eyes to see the little bee sanctuary things you usually sat near. “This is maybe early, but when I called before, umm—”
“Mingyu told you I’d be in the office?”
“Yes - that - that’s the one.”
He was quiet for a moment. “So - I forgot that every call that comes in is recorded for training—”
You laughed. “Of course they are.”
“But if you happen to have Instagram?”
“Definitely, I am a member of this century - what should I be looking for?” You were trying to keep it together.
“It’s - basically my name…”
“Ah, a creative,” you mumbled, glad you were wearing headphones and could swap to the app and search.
“I know it’s - I spent time choosing where to add the period.”
You smiled and ran a hand through your hair. “Uh-huh - okay, so I’m guessing you were also creative with the profile picture that is clearly you?”
“Umhm, that’s - that’s me,” his voice cracked slightly. “This is terrible - this is like fourth date territory.”
You laughed then. “I think it’s perfect. No notes.”
He did at least have it set to private. You hit ‘follow’ and saw the almost immediate add.
You clicked into the messages and typed quickly.
“Testing?” he asked, reading out your message like it needed scrutiny.
“Exactly - testing.”
You watched the bubble pop up - ‘10-4’.
You smiled. “Good, 10-4.”
Another message popped up - ‘rlly srry this is complicated.’
“It’s fine - it’s silly, not catastrophic,” you mumbled.
“So we can plan?” he asked.
“Yeah, I think so, and for the record, and for the benefit of the Yelp page I happened to see - five out of five stars - all questions were answered - you were extremely obliging and knowledgeable at all times - I felt like this was just a really safe space for me...”
“That’s—” again the pause in his voice. “That’s great - I’m glad to hear that - if we can be of any further service—”
“No, no - super productive chat, thanks so much.”
And you ended the call and covered your mouth with a hand to hide the tiny screech that came from how insane the last, approximately, three minutes of your life had been.
You’d just given him a five-star rating in case there was like a review of recording and called it a safe space. What the fuck was your life, anyway?
✦•┈๑⋅… 3 …·๑┈•✦
He was on a two-day shift. And it was on day two that Mingyu came in to cover for someone who’d gotten sick.
He’d been so close to not having to give any details in person.
But there Mingyu was at roll-call…waiting, smiling, like a fucking shark…and Seungcheol’s dating life was the blood in the water. For once, he was glad he would be out inspecting buildings for the day.
Which only postponed the inevitable.
So a day of walking around a building site, sweating and miserable, checking for tiny fire code issues, and knowing Mingyu would still be there.
It was something, though - he could try to condense everything down while he sat in the back and stared blankly at a page of code in stupid, tiny font that made him feel like he needed his vision checked. Or maybe he could just talk about the phone call, not the extended cut of what planning looked like so far. Mingyu did not need to know that Seungcheol’d figured out that text bricks from you were normal and something like an emoji and one word were your version of “death.” And Mingyu never needed to know that Seungcheol liked your messages and thought it was cute when you used the goofy in-app features like the gift box message thing. Even he was embarrassed that he enjoyed it, and he had practically zero game. He should’ve been attempting to be cool.
But it felt pointless somehow like you already sort of knew that he was possibly a dork on some level. And didn’t seem to care. So technically a win, since judging by your Insta…you were hot. And probably not dorky since you went skiing and went to brunch with actual people and willingly stood in group pictures.
He didn’t go skiing. He went to brunch when Mingyu dragged him along. He avoided photos…mostly. He was…fit…he posted gym selfies. Which you had gone through and spam-liked over the weekend at 2 AM. He hadn’t asked for details about that - he just stared at the notifications when he woke up. You’d hearted every single one. Even lying in bed, he’d felt how warm his cheeks had gotten - it hadn’t mattered that he posted thirst traps - it mattered that you’d looked at every thirst trap and tapped the ‘heart’ icon. And that you knew roughly what he looked like under all the fire gear. That was a prime reason he’d set his account to private - people noticing things, when he was generally pretty modest. It wasn’t like he wasn’t noticing you…he was just quiet about it.
Still, he had to avoid telling Mingyu things.
Maybe if the date went well, then he would share? No, that didn’t sound like him.
Besides, he’d searched you in general and saw your firm profile…and your LinkedIn and all the stuff that read like it was from another planet. It wasn’t bad to see, but he wondered if maybe he’d seem boring. Boring and dorky. Even if he was fit - those were maybe strikes against anything besides a few dates…maybe one hookup. He wasn’t like Mingyu - he couldn’t just flatly be positive - he needed to manage his expectations, even if messaging you was fun - he didn’t know what it would be like in person.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
You still weren’t fully certain how you’d found yourself sitting next to Fire Captain Choi Seungcheol in the stands at a Dodgers game. Besides luck and that he possibly had questionable standards.
They weren’t playing the Mets.
Regardless, when he texted details a few days before, he’d not so subtly suggested a different hat - something about trying to fit in.
You’d glowered at the screen - your face scrunching because you weren’t that obtuse. Besides, you didn’t even like baseball. Fit in, though? You’d fit in alright. Like it was even a challenge to begin with and not just something silly he’d said. You’d rolled your eyes at yourself as you got ready. You really knew how to take the bait and run with it…at least he’d know that part. And only mildly at your expense.
Because you had gone slightly insane borrowing a jersey from a co-worker. A classic away jersey, too, apparently, according to Greg, who sat in a different cubicle cluster. You weren’t fucking around.
Seungcheol had still smirked at you when he saw you. “Cute,” he’d muttered, walking you to his Jeep.
You had the slight urge to give him the finger…instead, you just rolled your eyes and shook your head because, in your own weird way, you’d tried to do exactly what he’d suggested…fit in.
And maybe you let him open your door for you.
It was a little high school.
But also a little cute since you did have to climb onto the side step. But mostly because he seemed kind of earnest about it - not like it was ironic door opening or he wanted to touch your ass. More like this was just the thing to do.
He had a Jeep-Jeep - all white…and your knowledge ended there. It was one of the ones that looked outdoorsy and had rubber ducks across the dashboard, filling the front window. You wanted to poke a duck, but had no clue what they meant - gang symbols for all you knew. Therefore, no clue if it was rude or playful to touch. But there was one pink one that you had the urge to hurl out the window when you were on West Sunset.
Instead, you busied yourself staring out the window and glancing at him while he was driving - you’d done some light insta stalking. And maybe some photo liking…but he definitely posted thirst traps.
Gym selfie thirst traps, too.
Rei had caught you ogling in the kitchen and classified him as ‘Damnnn - if you don’t fuck, I swear.’ You’d laughed, of course, even if you felt just a little flustered.
Because he was maybe, unquestionably sexy…a word you weren’t super fond of, but you still kept finding yourself scrolling idly through his photos for the last few days…weeks? years? Who knew anymore…
You’d been in bed the night before, scrolling, and you wondered if you’d ever been this interested in a man’s pecs before.
No. clearly.
You’d sighed loudly into the dark.
“He’s sexy,” you’d huffed to yourself, flopping around until you found the right position and the cool spot under your pillow. “He’s stupidly sexy.”
Still, it was a little difficult to reconcile the thirst traps where he was flexing to show his arms, cap pulled low over his eyes, and the guy next to you in the car toggling around for music that didn’t sound like it was part of a gym playlist.
So much trap rap…and EDM, and you kind of respected both - it was more his own reaction to the situation that was entertaining.
His need to hit skip quickly and repeatedly was palpable.
You tried not to grin since the cosmos and his phone seemed to be set on embarrassing him.
You wanted to tease him. Or at least wrestle the aux cord from him for his own good.
He’d finally settled for just turning it off when Cyndi Lauper started playing.
Time after time, indeed, you thought with a snort.
“Cute,” you muttered, staring out the window, smiling hard, trying to let him save face and almost succeeding.
But after a few minutes, you turned and grabbed the aux cord, plugging it into your phone and playing what you considered ‘music for company’, aka not the 8 Mile soundtrack, which you were certain lurked in his saves.
You weren’t embarrassed by house music, though. And you enjoyed the knowing smile that crossed his face - something like ‘of course,’ clearly populating his brain.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
You were glad it was at least a night game. The temps would drop to something tolerable. LA heat could be brutal, after all.
The problem was - you hated baseball.
It was so boring.
The games you went to as a kid were basically you and a cousin running riot around the stadium - or just leaving and grabbing the train to do something better.
But this was a date that you initiated, to be fair, and the seats were good, as in not absolute nosebleeds.
You were close to the dugout, actually. You could hear the bat crack the ball now and then. But it wasn’t like soccer with fan chants, and it definitely wasn’t like football with everyone pounding everyone else. It was like sitting in another era…where talkies were all the rage and the radio was maybe leading young girls down a path of immorality. You pinched your arm to keep from laughing at the bizarre mental tableau you were building.
And seeing Seungcheol in civilian wear was almost awkward. You had just assumed he only appeared in compression shirts and officers’ slacks 24/7, waiting for a call. But no. Jeans, a t-shirt that was not as revealing as his gymwear, plus he was wearing an oversized button-down over his t-shirt (unbuttoned, at least), and a cap that was just the right amount of worn-in. He looked like the actual fan.
While you looked like you were cosplaying as a rabid fan.
He looked like he was watching with interest.
And you looked like you were practicing as an extra for a zombie movie - glassy eyes and minimal movement.
Which was something…you gave him a sideways glance, knowing it would just confirm that ‘yes - that was his jawline’…and wasn’t it kind of amazing? Yes, you answered silently.
But the silence couldn’t last.
“So, are you one of those guys who's annoyed if I ask questions about the game?” You had to ask - sitting in total quiet on a date was too bizarre.
He turned, brows scrunched like he’d heard the question and was confused why he was being asked it. “No.”
Nodding, you watched the batter approaching home plate. “Okay - the batter - is he any good?”
Seungcheol shrugged. “He’s okay, I think,” he mumbled.
“You think?” you asked, skepticism dripping.
He cleared his throat. “I like watching because it’s fun - I don’t go all in on stats and stuff…”
You gasped and pushed his shoulder lightly. “But you know enough to dunk on my Mets hat?”
He nodded, turning to look at you again, eyes wide with certainty. “Yes - they suck - full stop.”
You giggled at the intensity. “But you don’t know stats…”
“Even the most casual of casual fans would know they suck.”
“Mmhm, coming from a casual fan…” you muttered.
He shook his head. “I’m not that casual.”
You sighed and glanced at the Jumbotron as it flashed stats and cut to the field. You’d literally never listened to anything at a game as a kid, except the heckling - that was fun. You knew what a home run was…that was technically something.
“So, can I ask something?” he asked, voice light and interrupting the stampede of your own thoughts.
You nodded. “Yeah, it’s a date - questions are sort of the point,” you added.
“You wondered if you could ask sports questions?”
You huffed. “Yeah, because experience tells me men don’t like being bothered during their sport watching.”
“Date rules don’t trump sport watching in your world?”
You paused to consider and finally shook your head. “No, if anything it means sit back and prepare to be ignored for like two hours.”
“Wait - timeout - you’re telling me that your experience is being ignored on dates like this, and you were like ‘let’s go to a game’?” he asked, a small grin appearing.
Oh, no - he couldn’t be making mental leaps like whatever he was. “Okay, before you start thinking some boy thing—”
“What are boy things?” he interrupted.
You groaned. “You know, just like before you start telling yourself I was just so into you I’ll sit through a miserable activity or some similar macho nonsense—”
“You are literally sitting and dressed seriously for a thing you don’t like.”
You pursed your lips. “Be that as it may - okay - just accept that I may have a weird competitive streak at times that outruns anything else, and you were so smug—”
“I wasn’t smug - I was on duty—”
“Umhm, and judging how I dressed in a panic. And mentioning that I should fit in…”
He laughed. “I – yeah, fine, the yellow snow boots were something…and wearing that hat would be so random…”
You crossed your arms in a faux-sulk. “I love those boots - they’re technically Moon Boots, by the way, which are very cool. And I already explained the hat…”
He nodded, glancing at you, clearly smiling as he examined your state. “Fine, if we’re saying embarrassing things—”
“I’m not embarrassed about my footwear…”
He smirked. “Can I say my thing?”
You nodded, pressing a finger to your lips like you were in Kindergarten and needed to prove you’d be quiet.
He gave a soft shake of his head. “I didn’t really think the date would get this far,” he said, voice flat.
You felt your brows scrunch. “Wait - far as in?” You had to clarify.
He shrugged again. “I sort of thought you would cancel, well, no, actually I didn’t think you would call…”
Your brows went up.
“Why?” you asked, voice a little sharp.
He hummed, gaze flicking back to the game. “You seem a little out of my lane, I guess,” he mumbled.
Your brows scrunched together. “How?”
He looked back at the game for a moment. “Your LinkedIn reads very intensely, I guess,” he said with a small laugh.
You immediately felt heat in your face - you hadn’t even considered stalking LinkedIn. But you fully knew how your profile sounded…very accolade-heavy, and then there was your job that sounded oh-so-serious and was basically bullshit that you hated waking up for.
You nodded. “Right,” you mumbled, chewing your lip lightly, “sounds like the online stalking was mutual, then?”
“Seems like it…I just didn’t ‘heart’ things.”
You felt the way your head jerked at that and forced yourself to stare straight ahead. So what if you had hearted things?
A quiet settled between you and him. Not awkward silence, exactly. More like the normal quiet that sometimes comes in a conversation. You felt his knee brush yours - you watched for a moment to see if he pulled away…one Mississippi…two Mississippi…three Mississippi…you couldn’t help glancing every few seconds to see if it was still happening - the actual feeling of denim against your skin wasn’t enough - you needed the visual.
The silence didn’t last.
“So, besides thinking I’m smug, why come to a game you don’t like?” He asked, glancing at you, knee still touching yours.
You flushed - you needed to say something real. “Uh, honestly?”
“Yes, ideally.”
You grinned. “Right - ideally - uh, because I met you in person…and apps are so weird, so I decided I’d only talk to someone if I met them in the wild - plus you didn’t seem offended by me, generally, which is always a plus….”
He hummed again. The sound was soft, like he was registering the response for its quality.
“Apps are weird,” he agreed.
You nodded. “Right? Like, who wants to type a brick about themselves?”
“Everyone I work with,” he admitted.
You glanced with interest. “You?”
You watched the slight pink appear higher on his cheeks. “Not by choice,” he offered, looking away quickly.
You grinned, immediately opening your phone to do recon…post-recon, you wondered to yourself.
He was easy to find. You started to read his bio, but he was also sitting next to you. You bit your lip lightly, navigating around to your own profile, which you’d never completed.
An idea came to you, and you clicked into the questionnaire. “Okay, so instead of me creeping on what I feel like was perhaps a group effort for you,” you mumbled, glancing to see the way he was pointedly staring at the game, “maybe we go through some of the insane questions on my unfinished profile?” you offered, almost sounding excited.
It was at least distracting. And you found out that he really liked his job and that he lived in the fire station when he was on call. “Really? Don’t you miss your bed, though?” you’d leaned slightly closer, like it was the literal most interesting fact in the world.
He’d glanced at you and rolled his eyes. “Yes - sometimes, but it’s not bad,” he added.
You nodded, humming. “So what else do you do when you’re there?”
“Test stuff, repair things, go to meetings…” he glanced at you then as if to ask if he needed to go on.
“Do you commute?”
“Umhm.”
“Right.” You glanced at his knee that was still touching yours.
You didn’t really pay attention to the game. And even he didn’t seem to want to sit through the double-triple-heptagonal overtime. You’d followed him out of the stands and ended up looping your arm through his as you walked through the milling groups of people waiting for the bathrooms or picking up food. You’d squeezed closer to him whenever you felt like you might collide with some oncoming person.
And then you were finally in the massive parking lot, arm still looped through his as you walked to his parking space.
You were mostly glad to be out of the ballpark. You sighed when you were back in his car, almost happy to see the ducks staring at you in greeting.
You still didn’t poke them.
You listened to the car start, feeling the ambient heat wrestle with the first waves of the AC. “I liked the Cyndi Lauper,” you mumbled, staring out the window at some guy with face paint.
“Who doesn’t?” He asked, getting situated.
You were still watching the face-painter. “Lunatics?” you mused.
The ride home was easy.
It was late - traffic was almost nothing.
And then you were parked in the driveway. You would have normally popped out of a guy’s car so fast.
But you didn’t.
You stayed in the seat, feeling the weird liminal space of being in his Jeep - you were outside but also not...
“What’s with the ducks?” You couldn’t keep it in.
He glanced at them. “Uh, kind of a dumb Jeep thing - you see someone else, and you leave a duck and collect the ones people leave you.” He answered.
You stared for a moment. “That’s so…wholesome,” you sighed, turning to look at him.
He nodded, reaching to poke a duck back into its proper place.
You waited for him to turn back to you again. One-banana, two-banana, you counted internally.
“Seungcheol,” you whispered like his name was some secret phrase.
He looked. “Hmm?”
“Could we like maybe go out again?” you asked, gently nudging the duck butt of the pink duck.
He watched you for a moment, his intense baby-cow eyes on you, and nodded. “Yeah,” he confirmed.
You pursed your lips, pausing for the drama. “Like soon, maybe?”
“Should I bother trying to be cool and wait like two days or whatever to answer?” He asked, a smile building.
You tilted your head. “Please be joking,” you muttered.
He smiled - fucking dimples that did weird things to your brain appearing on cue. “Yeah, I’m—”
You cut him off, leaning across the console to kiss him.
It could have been quick. But you’d been thinking about it since the third inning.
His lips were warm - your fingers and hand pressed gently to his cheek. You weren’t expecting him to deepen it, to nip lightly at your lower lip - you breathed harder when he did, leaning closer, opening for him. Your fingers tangled in his short black hair - his hand came to your jaw, guiding you, tracing along the side of your neck and down to the center of your collarbones, until you needed to breathe, anyway.
You didn’t exactly want to stop.
You swallowed hard and gave his hair a gentle tug and got rewarded with a smirk and the reappearance of his dimples. You wanted to climb into the back seat…so high school of you.
You bit your tongue gently, deciding this shouldn’t be that - not yet, anyway.
“Message me?” you asked, as you gently poked his left dimple.
“Yeah.” It was so simple - the way he gazed at you as he answered, his voice breathy - the way he didn’t push for more, even though you hadn’t let go, even though his fingers were still tracing just under your collarbone, teasing the neckline of the jersey.
You pressed the bridge of your nose to his, letting your lips barely graze his before you pulled back and shifted back to your own seat.
And then you had to get out. Because staying would have been a weird choice.
You were almost inside when you stopped to wave to him - then you slipped inside, messaging him as you walked upstairs.
[y/n]
ur sweet and it was fun
[y/n]
let me kno u get home pls
[choi.s]
home now
it was fun
ttyl?
[y/n]
you better
i know where u wrk
[choi.s]
another threat?
[y/n]
maybe
first one worked out pretty well 💅
andd it would be fun to see you come down a pole…
✦•┈๑⋅… 4 …·๑┈•✦
Cleaning the mess hall was not Seungcheol’s favorite, but it meant he could keep thinking about his date without Mingyu’s interjections. Not that they were terrible, exactly. He just wanted it to be in his brain for a little while longer - just him with the details of how good you looked in a jersey - the most bored super fan in the world. He had to pause wiping down a table and force the smile that was forming into something more neutral.
He couldn’t walk around looking happy - someone would notice. It wasn’t just Mingyu who tried to set him up. Soonyoung had once stared at him from across the table at lunch and suggested his own sister…the same sister who assumed any calls from Soonyoung were butt-dials.
He needed to look stern. He tried thinking about something serious…a graph? Graphs were usually serious…and boring. Graphs didn’t leave their knees touching his. Graphs would not have put up with any of that - graphs would have clutched pearls and called him ‘forward’…you hadn’t, though. You’d pressed your knee slightly to his…your knees were nice too, and your legs…he should be thanking whoever invented shorts.
“Dude!”
Seungcheol turned around. “What? Sorry…”
Mingyu grinned and pushed Soonyoung’s arm. “Told you - he finally ended his drought.”
“No, he looks spaced out and dopey even when he hasn’t gotten laid,” Soonyoung said, voice matter-of-fact.
Seungcheol glared at Mingyu for a moment…he’d clearly told Soonyoung. He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about the fact that there had been a date. Mingyu was taller, but that had never really stopped Seungcheol from tackling him before or putting him in a hold that would make him tap out.
Mingyu held up his hands. “He noticed the follow on Insta - I was under duress - I swear,” he said it as he was slowly moving to stand behind Soonyoung. Like Soonie was a serious block.
Seungcheol started to circle the table. Mingyu jumped slightly. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Who else did you accidentally tell?”
“No one…basically,” Mingyu reassured, walking backwards, putting a long table between himself and Seungcheol.
Seungcheol shook his head, not accepting that little ‘basically’ Mingyu added.
“Jeonghan knows - he thinks you have a plus one,” Soonyoung said, stepping out of Seungcheol’s way.
Seungcheol’s eyes widened. “The fuck?”
Mingyu shrugged. “It just…we were in chat, and everyone noticed the hot girl follow—” and then Mingyu was running.
Seungcheol scrunched his face. “I know where you sleep!”
Mingyu flipped him off as he kept going. Seungcheol rolled his eyes. “He better fucking run home.”
He turned to find Soonyoung still there. “Okay, but for real, inquiring minds and all…” Soonyoung said with a crazy forced smile…like that was convincing anyone.
Seungcheol shook his head. “No. Fuck off - aren’t you supposed to be washing something?”
“Did it. Wrote a book about it. Sorry, but Mingyu told us about the toast and the hat and—”
“So, he ran his mouth? I don’t have to corroborate any of it. In fact, you all - we’re not friends for the rest of shift - I’m the captain on duty - fuck off somewhere.” He crossed his arms and did his best ‘eat shit’ face.
And Soonyoung just walked closer until he reached up and squished Seungcheol’s cheeks. “I know that works on the recruits, but seriously,” he squished Seungcheol’s cheek harder, “I’ve known you too long for it to really have the same effect. Besides, you’ll spill the beans eventually and be annoyingly cute and shit - so fine, I’ve got an audiobook...” he said it like it was the biggest fucking deal to be listening to some murder mystery while he vacuumed.
But he did finally stop squishing Seungcheol’s cheeks like the most intense eomma on the planet. “There’s a second date, though, right?”
Seungcheol just stared in response, eyebrow arched in annoyance because Soonie couldn’t actually be fishing for fucking details. Apparently, some things still worked on Soonyoung since he backed away then. “I’ll just assume the stony face means ‘yes’…” he declared as he walked away.
Seungcheol didn’t care, but he checked the gc. Why was all his shit somehow always in there, he wondered, scrolling…fucking Mingyu.
He slept off and on that night - no emergencies, at least - and left for home the next morning. He’d mostly not talked to his friends until the 0800 shift swap. But he also knew it was kind of dumb to be mad at them when they were just happy for him - happy idiots. He’d finally broken when they were playing pool against each other. He hadn’t told them about knees touching or anything, but he’d admitted that there had been a kiss. And it was like being attacked by two oversized dogs with way too many questions about what kind of kiss it was. What was the pressure like? How long did it lasttt? Where were your hands?!
Fucking idiots. His idiots.
He was sitting in the parking lot now, though. Costco. His own version of a zombie apocalypse…too crowded, everyone for themselves, shoving, crying…nightmare stuff.
He felt his phone buzz…you. You, whose day was just starting. You who looked really sexy in shorts and a jersey and had definitely made out with him…still talking to him…the same him who’d still been hard about the makeout when he’d gotten home after the game. He’d had the briefest, tiniest urge to send you a dick pic after the game and something about it being your fault.
Why did he feel like you would be down for a dick pic? Constant flow of messages? But you hated online dating…but you didn’t seem to hate him. And he still wasn’t sure what that kind of photo would do. He’d snapped a bathroom selfie the day before, after lifting…shirt up, abs and arms. He smirked, knowing you were hating work at that very moment…his thumb hovered over the photo…you’d literally liked every single thirst trap…this was thirstier?
Then the message popped up.
[y/n]
so jealous ur at costco during the day
He snorted, closing his eyes, letting it really sink in that you were talking about his Costco run. He leaned forward, letting his forehead rest on the steering wheel. He was going to send a thirst trap to someone who wanted to talk about Costco…No. Shit. He couldn’t, right?
[choi.s]
u mean the most calustrophic store on earth?
[y/n]
gots to love it
[choi.s]
i don’t tho
dread it is more accurate
[y/n]
that’s the beauty
stock up
[choi.s]
i have like one closet
[y/n]
just be more efficient
[choi.s]
is this where i say smth dumb abt efficiency and get to see u again
[y/n]
you dun have to say anything dumb
i already asked
[choi.s]
right
u keep doing that
[y/n]
be faster next time
[choi.s]
what’s faster for u
asking for a thrid date now
[y/n]
i do like like a schedule
[choi.s]
dinner?
[y/n]
when
second date or third
[choi.s]
when says grl w worst schedule ever
2nd
[y/n]
when asks grl who will try very hard to make it work even if slightly dead
[choi.s]
tell me when works
[y/n]
thurs??
[choi.s]
yes
[y/n]
ayeeee sweet - date 2
dinner consisting of 1 dead grl & 1 pretty boy
[choi.s]
date 3
[y/n]
let me check
[choi.s]
srsly?
[y/n]
i mean...yeah
˚⟡˖ ࣪
He’d made it through Costco and back home. He shoved the cold things in his fridge quickly, and went upstairs to get Kkuma. He didn’t like to be late picking her up after his shifts. Mrs. Lee was already way too nice for keeping Kkuma as often as she did - she was practically a second home for the little white fuzz ball.
Precious white fuzz ball, he corrected himself as he caught his hand on the bannister leading to the second floor, smooth wood gliding under his hand.
He knew Mrs. Lee loved her “Kkuma time.” She even took Kkuma to the dog groomer sometimes - she’d gifted Kkuma a rain jacket for walks and little knitted doggie sweaters when the weather started to shift - “she needs some extra warmth.” Which, they all went along with the bow clips Seungcheol bought to keep Kkuma’s bangs out of her eyes...he winced at the door - he maybe did too much as a dog-Dad.
He knocked on the heavy wooden door - not his normal ‘official’ knuckle rapping, the soft, polite knocks of a neighbor. He appreciated the sound of knocking against old wood, though - it was one of the nice things about living in a building from like the 1920s. Wooden doors and noisy pipes and weirdly good layouts.
The door swung open to reveal Mrs. Lee, already up, awake, and dressed, wearing a massive sun visor that made her have to literally tilt her head fully skyward to see him.
“Seungcheol - we’re going for walkies now, you go home and rest,” she said in that clipped way that always made him smile.
“I’m home, though - I can take her.” He didn’t reach for Kkuma’s lead. He knew when he wasn’t going to win with Mrs. Lee. He still made his attempts, though.
“Ah, we already decided, walkies now, and then after some dilly-dally time in the park, we’ll find Dad, right, Kkuma?” She disappeared completely from his view as she looked down to confer with Seungcheol’s very pampered dog. He nodded to the visor as Mrs. Lee continued cooing over Kkuma, knowing Mrs. Lee and Kkuma would do the half-mile to the park on Golden Ave. and do some route through on the trails he could never exactly replicate on his own, much to Kkuma’s chagrin.
He still felt like he was imposing. “What if I go with you?”
The visor was suddenly up, and Mrs. Lee was staring at him with concern. “Don’t you need sleep? Besides, we have fun.”
“I know - I know, but I like the park too…” And he already felt bad for being late, even if this was his shopping day. He tried to stick to his schedule.
She seemed to weigh whether he actually liked the park and finally nodded. “Okay. Fine. We’ll have girls time another morning.”
And then they were off at the particular breakneck pace that only LA county crosswalk signals managed to slow. It was brisk as fuck. And she nudged him whenever he started to check his phone when they were stalled at a street corner.
“This is walkies time - check your phone at home - you know, where there are not idiot drivers who pay no attention to pedestrians - you’ll be a pancake, and then it will just be me and Kkuma.”
He nodded and smiled and put his phone away. “Sorry,” he mumbled, catching up to her.
She hit his arm when he started to reach for his phone again at the next crosswalk - he knew your messages would pile up - he’d have to back-read…
“So who is she?” Mrs. Lee asked, voice full of certainty.
“It could be a he…” he didn’t know why he’d said that.
“Maybe, but I’ve only heard about ‘shes’ so far.”
He snorted. “Yeah, I – am I that obvious?”
“I like to think I know you somewhat, but you do get twitchy with your phone when there’s someone - and you’re extra twitchy - is it serious?”
She was worse than Mingyu and Soonyoung. He would take ‘describe the pressure of the kiss’ for $800 now. “Uh, I don’t know, actually - we’ve only been on one date so far…”
“But you’re still talking away? How many days ago was the date?”
“Almost a week.” He hadn’t even had to think about it.
She looked up at him with her knowing smile. “You like this one.”
He couldn’t lie - he didn’t need to. “I do—”
“But you’re thinking some silly thing that probably has never even crossed her mind?” she asked, interrupting any qualifiers Seungcheol might have given.
He could have rolled his eyes, but that would be rude…and Mrs. Lee probably had a point. They were already crossing into the park. “She just has a different kind of job,” he said it like it was a question - he wasn’t even sure exactly what his hang-up was at this point.
“What is she?” She barely paused before answering her own question. “A stripper? They make money, too…”
He laughed, covering his mouth quickly. “No - no…like corporate stuff.”
“Oh, she makes good money then?” she asked, rubbing her thumb against her fingers like someone from a film talking about ‘moola.’
“Probably.” He could only guess. He didn’t even know what number of dates were required for things like finances to be discussed.
“Good for her. What’s the problem? You make money, she makes money, buy a nice place and fill it with babies, then I can spoil them and Kkuma.”
“I don’t think we’re that far along—”
“You never know, maybe she’s already decided. I decided before my husband - he was like you, dumb ideas about things - I fixed that, though. We were married for 42 happy years,” she said it with a soft sigh and a smile.
Seungcheol grinned, fully certain that Mrs. Lee had fixed every problem that had come her way. Besides, he’d had dinner with her before, and he’d seen all the photos of the happy couple that decorated the apartment. “Things can happen, though,” he mumbled.
She shrugged. “Maybe, but you should be confident - you’re a nice boy - you keep a nice place - you have a job that keeps you in shape…those things matter more than you think.”
He shrugged, toeing the grass. “I met her because her fire alarm went off,” he admitted, glancing at the small figure next to him.
“Was it her fault?”
“Her roommate’s cooking experiment,” he said, remembering the toast.
“Sounds like she’s the responsible one, then.”
He hadn’t even thought about that. No, he’d been debating whether a gym selfie was right…he hummed.
“She asked me out.” He could feel the slight tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
“She wasn’t messing about then.”
He smiled. “We went to see the Dodgers, and she doesn’t even like baseball,” he said with a smile and shake of his head.
“Hmm, she’ll go do something she doesn’t like to spend time with you - doesn’t sound so bad so far.”
“She said not to think that—”
“That means you should.” Mrs. Lee patted his arm. “And she won’t disappear because you take time to go on walkies with Kkuma – you know how I know?” She looked up at him again and made a vague swirling motion with her hand like she was plucking the answer from behind his ear - for the drama, he knew. “Because your phone keeps making that little buzz-BUZZ sound, even I can hear it - you’ll go home to 30 messages,” she said with a smile, patting his arm again.
“It could be work,” he mumbled.
“They’d call.”
✦•┈๑⋅… 5 …·๑┈•✦
It was Thursday. You’d made it. You’d made it through most of the day anyway. And you hadn’t cancelled your date. Which was…you were a little concerned. Not because you didn’t want to go. You really, really did. It was literally what you kept reminding yourself of, that and triple-checking your messages that it was definitely today and not some other Thursday.
It was more like the idea of going home to locate an outfit that wasn’t a set of matching PJs was starting to feel less and less doable. You’d even had one of the gross ginger root shots - vile, by the way. And only semi-effective. You tried to shake it off - it was tapas! Tapas didn’t call for three hours of hair and makeup…and Seungcheol didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would be looking for that on a Thursday night anyway.
You couldn’t look like shit.
But jeans were probably fine. And you were leaving on time, even if you had to sneak out, which you didn’t think you’d need to, but you did take a few trips to hide in the stairwell when you thought someone might be approaching to ask for something extra. You left your sweater on your chair, though - the universal for ‘she’s still here - check back.’
You were currently on a stairwell sojourn, drinking a coffee from the break room and trying to mentally picture what non-work clothes were clean…and cute. There were jeans, and maybe an oversized rugby shirt? That was more chill vibes…less ‘I’ve had 32 shots of espresso so far this week.’ Your heart rate was basically the same as a hummingbird’s. You had this cute top that wrapped somehow, but that was giving like spring day or something. You looked up the restaurant again - it was cute and a little more sleek. Jeans and a blue Oxford shirt - white undershirt…shoes? You mentally swiped left on several pairs…you had these mules you’d been wanting to wear, so maybe those. And your hair was in good shape, so some touch-ups to your makeup and a quick wardrobe change were probably all you needed.
You were taking the metro anyway. You were not staring down any level of traffic. He had the day off. He’d offered to meet somewhere near you, but you hadn’t wanted that - you’d already done the date that was nearer to you.
You pressed your lips into a thin line - what if the date was very near him, you wondered. Would it be weird? Would he say if it were…you had no idea. You were meeting at his apartment and walking to the restaurant. Maybe it was time to see if you were already going to be disappointing for him? Rip off that particular band-aid earlier instead of trying to hold out and appear cool…
You hit dial and waited…there were more rings than normal. It was an Instagram call, though. The things people generally assumed were mistakes because they were. “Hi?” Ugh, his voice - so hot.
“Hi,” you said, checking over the railing to see if anyone else had popped in.
“We should swap numbers,” he said abruptly.
You smiled. “Yeah, it does feel a little fake, right?”
“A little…but what’s up?”
You hummed. “I’m that transparent, huh - uhhh,” you sighed and glanced around at the weird gray and orange walls. “Can I ask a favor?”
“You can ask anything…”
You felt the stupid grin that created. “Right, I can - um, tonight, could we maybe do take-away and just like hang out?” You scrunched your eyes closed, waiting to see if there was some massive sigh of annoyance. You were so used to the massive, long sighs.
“You mean not go out?”
“Yeah…that.” You held your breath slightly.
“So no loud people and no standing in line…”
You brightened slightly - he didn’t sound disappointed. “Umhm.”
“Yeah, we can do that.”
You smiled, laughing softly. “You’d rather stay in?”
“Almost always.”
You were still grinning. “Cute.”
“Usually I get ‘boring,’ but I’ll take ‘cute.’ Do you want me to meet you at the metro stop? I could place the order from there…”
You leaned against the wall, grinning harder somehow - of course, he would meet you at your stop - that was simply what one did in Seungcheol-world. “Yeah, that – that would be really nice,” you answered, voice softer.
There was a soft pause. “So good day?”
You scrunched your face. “Okay day,” you muttered, picking at your sleeve.
“‘Okay’ isn’t bad, though, right?”
“Right.”
Another beat of quiet, just him on the other end of the line, and you in the stairwell.
“Tell me when the metro does the loop at Downtown?”
It started to sink in - he was really going to meet you, like be waiting for you. “I will.”
“Good.”
Another small beat that you could have counted in banana increments but didn’t.
“Byeee.”
“Bye.”
You ended the call and groaned - he was lucky you hadn’t said ‘bye’ like five more times. You watched his message bubble pop up…and his actual number appear. You shook your head softly - disbelief washing through your brain that he was still sweet. Changes like not going out had been major issues before. It was nice that it wasn’t. Really, really, really, infinity times nice. And you’d still wear the same basic outfit - maybe the rugby shirt was back in the running, though.
You added his number and messaged him so he had yours. He was right that it felt less fake to have actually - finally - exchanged numbers. You watched the little heart react appear on your number. Had you maybe made his day by not wanting to go out? Maybe you’d finally found an introvert…you did tend to look at MBTIs on apps…and always pick the ‘E’ types, even though you were always annoyed when they were constantly ‘E’-ing. Maybe you needed an ‘I’ - maybe you were an ‘I.’ You searched for a quick MBTI quiz as you walked back to your desk.
No reason you couldn’t check.
˚⟡˖ ࣪࣪
You’d managed to leave at exactly 5:00 PM. And traffic was…whatever. It was more when you got home and needed to change that things became a little annoying. You knew roughly what you wanted to wear, like you had it narrowed - it was just a quick change. Except no, it wasn’t because Rei was in a mood to follow you around like a lost puppy from the moment you entered the house.
“Do you really have to go out?” she whined.
You’d found your jeans - now the shirt debate - rugby shirt or Oxford shirt…one had, well, no, they both had some buttons. And you were largely ignoring your roommate. She whined often, if not daily, about something. To your mind, it was maybe that she literally lived the kind of charmed life that was practically a satire of itself. And really, by ‘charmed’ you meant her Dad was richer than ‘as fuck’ could even start to describe. Which was fine mostly - you’d been roommates since your first year of college - year two had just meant that she invited you to live off campus at ‘one of’ her Dad’s places and you paid practically nothing. It’d been amazing because you had just a little bit more than nothing as a student - so it mathed.
It had mathed less and less since then. Especially on a night like this.
“Yes, I want to go, so chill out.” You’d already pulled on a white cropped tank top and your jeans of choice before she’d even barged in…you had also maybe taken a moment to pick cuter panties and a semi-matching bralette, which were details you could and possibly would take to your grave.
“Oh, come on - didn’t you already do the nasty? Why go all the way to Long Beach? It can’t be that good,” she said, her voice husky enough in that almost movie star way that came so close to making it feel like cute banter from a friend, instead of something totally asinine.
You rounded on her. “The nasty? Are you 13? And a boy?”
She shrugged. “For real, come onnn, stay in - I have weed and drinks, and there’s a million Love Island episodes…I reelly should have gotten that call back,” she concluded, doing the thing where she started dragging out her vowels weirdly to sound ‘posh’ before she flopped onto your bed.
You were fairly certain she hadn’t gotten the call back because she’d gone to the casting call not just with a hangover, but still literally drunk. Even Love Island casting had limits, apparently. Or just an insurance issue.
“Look, I just think that it was a laugh and now you should come back to normal life - stay in or go out with me because there is a party tonight and it’s supposed to be like everyone - EVERYone - is going - so you should go too…” she was still lying on your bed, messing with your duvet.
“What so I can be your boring friend in the corner?” That sounded harsher than you wanted, but you also really wanted to figure out your shirt problem…the Oxford looked good, almost sexy because you could control the number of buttons...
“You’re not boring - not that boring, anyway - but you’re my wing…girl, come onnn, don’t make me go alone,” she pleaded again.
You shook your head. “I’m busy tonight.” You were busy almost every night, actually. She’d never seemed to notice that.
“No, you’re heading off towards a night of additional boredom for some reason I can’t work out.”
You were going with the Oxford shirt with a white tank underneath - you headed to the bathroom, touched up your makeup, brushed your teeth…anything else? You stared around. Nothing. Still nothing. Shirt could go on now. No danger of getting stuff on it…
You walked out from the bathroom, grabbed your shirt and bag and decided quickly on some light pink Doc Martens because…walking - fuck - you needed cute socks - you sighed…grabbed some white socks with a cherry pattern, cuffed the hems of your jeans so you didn’t look like a - whatever the fuck - you didn’t care - you needed to catch the metro, not edit your internal monologue.
You stood up and found Rei slightly too close to you. This was getting fucking bonkers.
“Look - I don’t know how to tell you this,” you said it almost gently, as you grabbed her hands and held them like you reelly gave a shit in the moment - she was technically an old friend. “I like him - so stop being mean, and call someone else, okay? Love you, but seriously, I am busy,” you said it all in your best client service tone and with roughly the same forced smile.
And then you walked out.
She definitely followed you and continued like you had barely spoken. Wasn’t she the one who wanted you to start dating? You were out the door - it didn’t matter.
But you downloaded an apartment finder app as you found a spot on the metro car. It was probably time to think about finding your own place - not just time, more akin to long overdue.
You swiped around the map looking for places that looked interesting - none of the giant all-inclusive places - that was definitely not you…you wanted something that felt like it had some history, at least. Or just didn’t look like a cube of cubes, maybe?
Seungcheol had sent some menus that you swapped to. He recommended any of the places, leaving it up to you. You saw a curry and felt your mouth water slightly…he was serious, right?
You messaged for a few minutes about an order at the Curry House. And you figured out that he was serious - he did like it - just nothing super spicy for him.
A fact which you filed away as you heard the bing-bong for Downtown and messaged ‘at downtown.’ And feeling slightly shit…but you left that out. If you waited until you weren’t tired or weren’t stressed, you’d basically be a nun before you could see him again.
Still, it wasn’t the most auspicious start.
˚⟡˖ ࣪࣪
But you hadn’t wanted some Insta-perfect night, anyway. Kind of the opposite.
Plus, when you glanced out the window and saw him literally waiting, it was - you couldn’t help the dopey grin your face was suddenly arranging itself into…at least he was also wearing jeans and this like knit sweater that was like the nice boy version of his gym shirts. And you were thinking of all the thirst traps…seriously, his upper body, generally, was enough to send you spiraling, but why did his jeans show off his ass so well?…you wondered if it was too soon to touch it.
Probably.
Probably too soon to reveal that side of yourself…the absolute horn-dog side.
Besides, he was waiting. And didn’t look impatient or annoyed. You almost waved like a loon but tamped it down. It wasn’t like you’d traveled the world or been to war and only conversed via letters from the literal trenches…it’d been like a week. Even if he was looking kind of extra gorgeous by just showing up.
You worked your way towards the doors of the train car and walked out quickly in case any tourists had the idea to stampede. You walked to him, giving a small wave as you crossed your arms against the gentle wind that had started to pick up. He had his phone open, ready to order, just like he’d said.
You made it to him. “Hey,” you offered, still trying to control the stupid grin that wanted to take over your face - why was he so - whatever he was, you wondered as you noticed the wind barely tossing his hair. Thank the sky gods you were still at least wearing sunglasses and preserving some semblance of calm as you watched the insane display that Mother Nature was putting on for you. At least until he leaned in and kissed your cheek quickly before returning your ‘hey’ as he leaned away.
You smiled then. It was – exactly what you needed. You moved closer and looped your arm through his like you had when you’d been leaving the game the last time. “So was that like how you greet your Grandma and I should ignore it or—”
“No, it was like I – it felt right?” he asked, the slightest glint of concern somewhere deep in his eyes.
You nodded and squeezed his upper arm. “So which way is food?” you asked, voice soft - you leaned on his shoulder, confirming the kiss was right…because leaning on him also felt right.
It wasn’t a long walk. Maybe ten minutes. Which was just enough time for Seungcheol to decide that it was better if his arm was around your waist and that kissing you quickly on the temple while waiting for the lights at crosswalks to change was completely normal.
They were small kisses. Chaste pecks that meant you kept smiling and everything else from the day seemed like it had happened in another lifetime. You’d taken the metro and exited into some new territory not previously known, and there was still curry.
The line was quick.
But you still leaned on his shoulder, wondering slightly if you were about to have curry and maybe pick up where you’d left off? Not a bad idea…or maybe eat delicious curry and poke around his bathroom and then make out like horny teens once you established that he knew what Q-tips were - so many tantalizing options. You were spoiled for choice.
Besides, the walk back to his place was a bit calmer - you were heading away from other people, plus he had precious cargo now…curry and butter chicken and daal. None of that stopped your hand finding his free one - your fingers lacing easily with his as you walked a bit faster, which only made him laugh because ‘you don’t know the building.’ Which…fair. You didn’t.
“So tell me if I’m hot or cold,” you offered, walking past a crosswalk near an apartment complex, feeling him pull you back.
“Freezing cold,” he said with a smile, pulling your hand closer to his side as he watched for the light to change.
You groaned. “So where is it?”
“Close - like the next block, but it’s a shorter building—”
“Oh, shorter?” You couldn’t help being curious. Almost no one talked about being in a shorter building.
He nodded. “There’s ivy and stuff,” he added.
“In LA?”
He was still staring at the light, and you were staring at him, watching the smile that teased the corner of his mouth. “Well, in Long Beach there’s ivy,” he clarified, tearing his eyes away from the light for a moment, his smirk definitely teasing.
You had the urge to bite his shoulder in retaliation. Instead, you squeezed his hand and started off across the street at a faster pace the moment the light changed. It was one hundred percent faster than you had any business going. But you had two things to look for, though - it was shorter, and there was ivy - it’d stick out like a sort of big green thumb.
And it did…in the best way.
You paused when you found it, staring at the short brick building with the surprising cornices and the almost completely ivy-covered front…it even trailed to one side. It was just sandwiched between these two boring concrete blobs. And it had this massive wooden main door, and balconies that included fire escapes…it wasn’t what you’d imagined at all. You’d kind of assumed something cube-y - guys usually went with cube-y…past guys, old guys, not-Seungcheol-guys. They all liked the cube, especially when the cube had a basketball court listed as an amenity. This place, though, was the kind of place you loved finding, not just leftover from another era, but that someone had bothered to keep.
You were possibly enthralled. He had to pull your hand to get you moving again.
“Come on,” he mumbled, leading you down the side of the building to a set of covered side entrances with a privacy gate. You tried to imagine what search prompt he entered into which app to find this place. You’d seen guesthouses, cube apartments, and absolutely nothing was this interesting.
He managed to get you inside, which was maybe a mistake - in that once your shoes were off, you padded around behind him, staring at everything, especially a large Shinchan plush that peeked out from the edge of what looked like a loft. You glanced at it as you passed by to go to the kitchen with him…you would find out why the Shinchan seemed to be hiding. But also, how did a studio have a small kitchen, a full bathroom, and a washer and dryer at the back?
Otherwise, the standouts were the very gorgeous cognac brown leather sofa in the main room, the use of lamps instead of the Big Light™, and the fact that there was hardwood throughout that was somehow highlighted by the rug choices - saturated colors on a sort of warm pecan floor. It was coherent - and there were hand towels and soap dispensers. It was like a functioning human occupied the space and had tastes and preferences.
Brave new world, indeed.
You used the bathroom just to admire the fact that the soap dispenser had soap in it…but it also made the Shinchan more appealing. Because Seungcheol had only gestured to the loft and said it was the bedroom…but why was Shinchan out of the way, you wondered as you breathed in the lavender hand soap before rinsing and drying your hands. You stayed for a moment and checked out the small collection of face things and some cologne and one small framed piece of art that reminded you of something sort of like graffiti…and then you left before it was clear you were an absolute snoop of the highest order.
But the entire apartment was certainly planting a little hopeful seed in your mind that you could find a place - maybe you just needed to ask the person who’d managed to find this little gem…he was literally standing next to you, unpacking curry and asking whether you wanted a bowl or a plate.
“You have both?” you asked, not even trying to hide your smirk.
He rolled his eyes. “Are you also going to be shocked when I have actual silverware and not just a drawer of leftover takeaway spoons and forks?”
You nodded. “Naturally - I’ll fall over if you have glassware, too.”
He shook his head, smiling and reaching for a cupboard to open it - water glasses, juice glasses, and mugs - oh my!
You laughed at the display. “Oh, Choi Seungcheol, you know how to make a girl weak,” you mumbled and kissed his cheek. You were surprised when he turned, his lips catching yours gently - gently for a moment - gently until you felt his arm around your waist and the kiss deepening. He pulled away so slowly.
“All my pots and pans have their original lids, too,” he whispered, voice low, the slightest waggle of his brows.
“So sexy,” you answered, finally taking a bowl from him and helping yourself to the lovely curry and rice and naan that looked like it might reset your biological age to childhood.
You ate in the living room at the table in front of the sofa.
It was comfortable and easy. And the music he picked was markedly different - he’d asked about music vaguely a few days before and got you to admit that you did like jazz.
You stared at the phone for a moment, wondering what else he’d gently wangled out of you…the sneaky sneak. It was another tally under the column of ‘he is sexy,’ though…and maybe even went under the column of ‘he likes me.’
“So how was the metro?”
You hummed. “Normal, but my standards are at sea level - as long as I’m not driving, it’s acceptable.”
“So it could have smelled like the inside of a gym bag?”
“I’d still take it…” you admitted, voice flat.
“But plates and bowls?”
You winced. “Look, I’ve found myself in places where a spork would have been a delight?”
“Hence avoiding apps?”
“Precisely why I avoid apps…and anyone my roommate suggests - I’ve learned - that’s almost always for the bit,” you mumbled.
“Really?”
You nodded, glancing at him. “You know, don’t you have one of those friends who like 80% of their existence is so they can have a story to tell?”
He watched you with slightly wide eyes. “No.”
You pushed his shoulder. “Bully for you - seriously, no one who commits too hard to some bullshit?” you asked, clarifying, and sipping your beer.
You could see the crack starting to form as he mentally flipped through some friendship Rolodex. “Yeah, okay, okay…I wouldn’t live with any of them, though.”
“No?”
He shook his head emphatically and popped more chicken into his mouth.
You nodded. “Probably smart. It was fine before, but I think I should maybe branch out,” you said, swiping curry up with your naan.
“Like move?” he asked, glancing at you.
“Yeah…like it’s her Dad’s, so you know, cheap rent, but I don’t want to put out toast fires anymore.”
He scrunched his brows. “Please say you don’t have more toast on your lawn…”
You smiled. “No - you would have heard.”
He sighed and leaned back against the sofa, his head tipping back onto the seat for a moment. He groaned, rubbing his stomach for a moment and finally leaning up, glancing at you.
“That good?”
He nodded. “Perfect…”
You grinned and went back to your own food and your sour beer because he’d remembered that you liked sours. And when he picked up some beer, he apparently saw them…and now you had special sour beer sitting in his fridge.
You turned. “So what about you? Your day?”
He shrugged. “Mostly quiet,” he answered with a sigh.
Glancing again, you wondered if it was really that quiet.
He smiled. “Sometimes everything is quiet - shifts are quiet besides normal dumb things.”
Of course you rounded on that. “Normal dumb things?”
He grinned. “I helped Soonyoung film a dance challenge…”
Everything stopped for a moment so you could locate the dance challenge and confirm that Seungcheol was not visible in the video.
“Disappointed?”
“No, it would have been cute, though…another side to you, and all that,” you said, locking your phone and putting it away.
“I don’t think competent dancing is one of the sides,” he murmured, still leaning against the sofa.
You were almost finished eating. “I didn’t say you needed to be competent—”
“No, but to me, definitely required,” he said, voice soft.
It was quiet for a moment.
“But, for you, quiet and silly things mean a good day - nothing serious?”
He hummed. “Yeah, all quiet is the best case.”
It was weird to think about the number of times something was referred to as a ‘fire drill’ in your office, all because Ted or Kevin or whoever was just really shit at client communications. And it was also weird to think that someone you knew actively did something risky for work. You didn’t especially want to think about it…instead, you leaned on the sofa and smoothed his bangs off his forehead. He really, genuinely, had annoyingly clear skin - you weren’t sure you could even spot a pore.
“You’re like safe, though, right?”
His eyes barely opened. “Worried?”
You glanced away for a moment before finding his gaze again. “Apparently,” you murmured, your fingers tracing along his jaw.
“Just assume dance videos unless…I say it’s not dance videos - or admin - there’s always admin,” he sighed.
You leaned against him, then, letting the quiet come back. You had no idea when your brain had decided that worrying for Seungcheol was an active thing running in the background. But you’d said it, so it must be.
˚⟡˖ ࣪࣪
You helped with carrying things back to the kitchen. You dawdled, going to the bathroom to check your hair for a few minutes before you made your way back through the small kitchen to the main room. Seungcheol was on the sofa - you paused for a moment in the hallway, noticing the back of his neck…what if you kissed him there in passing? He’d kissed you already…you tilted your head, considering and decided the angle wasn’t right. Annoying.
So you walked back out to the living room, to your sour beer, and your…Seungcheol, flicking through movies to watch.
You dropped next to him, happily feeling the sofa and the way it held you. There was a blanket and throw pillows. You ignored them in favor of his arm sliding around your waist and pulling you close, so you could lean against him, your cheek against his chest. You let your arm snake around his waist.
“So why is Shinchan hiding?” you asked.
“Hmm?” he glanced down at you from the projected screen.
You pointed up towards the loft. “Shinchan?”
His eyes followed your finger. “It’s nothing.”
You sighed. “Definitely something then.”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Are you embarrassed?”
“No,” he said flatly.
You grinned at the ‘no,’ your fingers tracing along his side, feeling the smooth muscle under the buttery soft knit fabric. “Totally embarrassed,” you mumbled, nuzzling closer against his chest.
“No - he - it doesn’t go with stuff,” he mumbled.
You couldn’t help smiling, feeling like you’d won, just a bit.
Shinchan definitely went with things…
You let your fingers trace up until you felt his ribs - you could hear the longer pauses on various movie trailers. You bit your lower lip gently.
There were only two small lamps on because movies…
“Seungcheol,” you murmured.
He hummed again.
“What if you found lo-fi or something?” you asked - voice truly, hand on heart, innocent as the driven snow, as you glanced up at him.
There was a pause. “Why?” he asked, looking down at you, gaze focused like he was sizing you up.
You shrugged. “Long day,” you whispered - your bottom lip barely catching between your teeth.
He hummed, but it was a lower tone this time. “Long day?” he echoed.
You nodded, letting your fingers shift and splay over his stomach. “So long…”
You watched him swallow and glance quickly at the screen, changing apps and scrolling for maybe three seconds before there was some vaporwave aesthetic moving screen saver and lo-fi playing.
You giggled when you felt your back hit the sofa.
And the way his lips immediately went to your throat, kissing and sucking gently, then licking and biting his way lower. You hummed, enjoying that he might have been thinking about this exact kind of moment. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you moaned softly - your fingers catching in his hair, pulling gently when he slid the collar of your shirt to the side and placed a line of wet kisses along your clavicle. You pulled his hair roughly, wanting his lips on yours. He leaned up with a soft moan, lips finding yours, biting gently, deepening it. Your hand slid down the neck of his shirt, your nails barely making little half moons against his skin as he licked into you. You felt his hand tracing along your thigh - you rolled your hips up against his…
And then his phone beeped.
He leaned up quickly, checking it. “Shit,” he mumbled.
“What’s wrong?”
He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “I need to walk Kkuma.”
Your brows went up, still uncertain. “Kkuma?”
“My dog – she’s with my neighbor,” he said with a groan.
You smiled. “Seriously?”
You could see the pink blooming higher on his cheeks.
“I just - I wasn’t sure how you’d feel…maybe she’d be too much,” he said with a shrug.
You hummed and reached up, smoothing the mess that you’d both made of his hair. “It’s okay - you hid Shinchan, too,” you said with a grin. “Poor Seungcheol,” you murmured, letting your fingers trace along his jaw. “So thoughtful and handsome,” you added.
His hand caught yours gently, kissing the backs of your fingers before he sat up. He glanced at you with a smile. “Maybe I just wanted to fuck,” he said with a shrug.
You giggled - like he could be that nonchalant - the man who had accidentally played Cyndi Lauper in his desperate bid to not reveal his gym playlist. “Still handsome - still 99.9% sweet, and, I guess, 0.1% fuck boi,” you corrected.
He shook his head. “Just the 0.1%…okay - she’s upstairs.”
You nodded, sitting up, finger combing your hair. “Can I come?”
“Yeah,” he said, standing and fixing his shirt - he offered you a hand, pulling you up. You let him straighten your shirt and look you over. “Do I look like - you know?” he asked.
You smiled and neatened his collar. “No, you basically look like you had dinner and sort of watched a film.”
˚⟡˖ ࣪࣪
You followed him through the building and up the back stairs. He stopped outside a second-floor apartment, knocking lightly. You heard some noise from inside, and then the door swung open to reveal a petite, older woman with amazingly iron-gray hair. She wore a pink floral dressing gown with silver slippers and was accompanied by a small white dog that wasn’t even barking. You could hear the TV playing - you recognized it…Love Island.
“Seungcheol?” she asked, voice a whisper.
“I came to see if she needs a walk,” he said quietly.
“Ah, we went after dinner, but probably - she can come back, though - we’re watching our show.”
“It’s okay,” he glanced at you, looking sheepish. “I probably shouldn’t have bothered you.”
“Kkuma staying isn’t a bother. Anyway, introduce us,” she said it with a voice that knew what the next part was and wanted to get to it.
You smiled and walked forward to be introduced, first to Mrs. Lee and then to Kkuma. Mrs. Lee smiled and asked how dinner was. “Amazing,” you answered.
She nodded like she hadn’t expected any other answer. “Good, now go on walkies - I’ll pause the show until you're back.”
You grinned. How could you not?
She picked up Kkuma and handed her to you, while Seungcheol was handed the lead and bags and hand sanitizer. Kkuma was immediately the cutest lump of fluff - with these silly long bangs and big boba eyes. You couldn’t help hugging her gently - she was so warm and cozy like she’d just come from a lap when she was half asleep.
You followed Seungcheol outside with her and held her while he attached her lead to her collar.
He stared for a moment.
“What?” you asked.
“You have to put her down,” he said.
“Oh,” you pouted and sat her down. It felt rude. She glanced up at you like she agreed with the sentiment. “Sorry,” you mumbled to Kkuma.
He shook his head. “No, not you too - she’s already a baby.”
“Is that so bad?”
He watched you for a moment. “We were fully doing things…and stopped - she’s massively babied.”
You grinned and put your arm through his. “She’s so cute, though.”
“She’s watching Love Island with Mrs. Lee…”
“I know,” you yawned and leaned on his shoulder. “I wonder if it’s a good episode?”
You walked with them around the block twice - the first time was apparently for sniffing and the second time was for peeing on what seemed to be a very specific shrub, which would have made you laugh if you weren’t feeling so tired. You hadn’t especially thought about the part where you went home…or you had, but that was ages ago when you were also looking for apartments. A million years before curry and the good sour beers…
You followed him back in to return Kkuma to Mrs. Lee. Apparently, she had genuinely paused the show waiting for Kkuma to come back. And then you walked back to Seungcheol’s, leaning against his back while you waited for him to unlock his door.
“Want to stay?” he asked, closing the door.
You’d taken your shoes off. It wasn’t your plan. Even if you hadn’t thought as specifically about leaving, you had planned generally to leave, and checked a timetable at some point and snapped a screenshot. You glanced around, looking for some logic to appear and suggest a barrier…
“You’re tired - borrow some clothes, take a shower. I’m off tomorrow, too, so I can drive you back in the morning.”
You finally looked at him. He was leaning against the wall near the door, watching you.
You remembered that you had definitely been doing things with him…you nodded. “It’s a work-from-home day, so I can still do the metro—”
“Or I can get breakfast for you and drop you off after, and then maybe you’ll have a less shitty day.”
“I said it was mostly okay…”
“Right, from the stairwell.”
You shrugged. “It’s the easiest break spot.”
He shook his head. “Just come on - come ogle the fact that I have a clean bathtub…”
“There’s a full bathtub?” How had he found this place?
“You didn’t check?” he asked, glancing suspiciously over his shoulder.
“I’m not opening shower curtains…” There were boundaries, plus horror movies told you that’s where the dead bodies were, anyway.
“Umhm…”
He ushered you along as he did things, grabbing clothes for you, turning on the taps. You had the feeling that if things were further along, he would have showered with you or at least stayed around to talk…but they weren’t.
So you were left alone to sniff his soaps and shampoo like an absolute toiletry pervert. None were overtly ‘boy’ scented…nothing tagged ‘spring’ or ‘mountain’ or ‘blood spurt’ or ‘it’s just grappling - no homo.’ Instead, he had something minty from a brand you knew - there actually were other sides to him, despite his suggesting there weren’t…at least not dance-y sides. There was definitely the side that had made this purchasing decision, though, for instance…
He showered after you. Meanwhile, you sat on the sofa, toweling your hair, and pondering when you’d actually become this tired. At least you would see Shinchan, you thought with a wry smile. And you didn’t mind that you’d gone with him to walk Kkuma…you’d literally forgotten how tired you were somehow. Weirdo boy magic - that was the only explanation.
Maybe horniness, too…
“Come on,” he said from somewhere near your side. You nodded and got up, following along. He’d loaned you a washed soft t-shirt and sweats. You went first up the stairs, noticing how tight the spiral was - it was slightly disorienting. There was room to avoid hitting your head in the loft space, though. You weren’t that short, but even Seungcheol didn’t seem in danger of bumping his head.
You waited while he put towels over the pillows. He was going to sleep with damp hair too. “Want Shinchan?” he asked.
You smiled, shaking your head. “Just you,” you said from behind your hand as you yawned.
He nodded, moving closer, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close. You were already drifting.
You heard the soft ‘could have cancelled,’ as he nuzzled close.
That brought you back - your brows scrunching as you turned around. “Cancelled? Why?” you asked.
“You’re tired - a bad week? Those are reasonable things to say.”
You watched him for a moment, wondering what he was thinking. “That’s the kind of thing I say to people when I don’t want to see them,” you said, smoothing his hair. “I wanted to see you - I had a nice time, like really nice,” you whispered, kissing his cheek before turning back over and pulling his arm around you while you snuggled closer.
˚⟡˖ ࣪࣪
fic navigation: master list ↩️ | ▶️ part 1 | ⏩ part 2 | ⏩ epilogue
a/n: okay fr i hope you enjoyed this - it's my first like multi-big brick fics on tumblr and i really hope you had fun with these two ^^
♡ 𝚝𝚘𝚊𝚜𝚝
p.s. i kind of want a mingyu follow-up piece where he finds the right person LOL
read more here mingyu m.list | seungcheol m.list | general m.list
dividers by @/cursed-carmine (lace) & @/cursed-carmine (mdni)
>>>the one where you annoyingly need an alpha and it feels way too real
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭
pairing: k.mg / f!reader
𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: 18+, 𝘔𝘋𝘕𝘐, 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵
summary: you're an omega who rarely has heats...until you do, and it's horrible and makes you desperate enough to try the ridiculous seventeenth heaven alpha service you keep seeing advertised - and you end up with an emergency alpha, mingyu, to get you through a bad moment, except that neither of you exactly want it to end when the time is up
word count: 4.8k
genre / warnings: alternate universe | non-idol | omegaverse (a/b/o) | soulmates | alpha!mingyu | lwk escort!mingyu | omega!reader | heat/rut dynamics | soft!mingyu | service top!mingyu | very slight angst | painful heat (until it's not) | mentions of bad past s3xual experiences | penetrative s3x | fingering | knotting | scent as soulmate mark
[unknown sender]
hi, lovely i’m messaging you from 17th heaven about our alpha services
we can handle all your omega needs
txt us back and give us all ur heat
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆
You had stared at that message a million times. It was so corny.
You had marked it as spam before, even, but it always seemed to pop back up. It made you wonder what you had signed up for that had sold your phone number - you or someone you hated who wanted to kill you via mild annoyance.
But there were billboards for it. Ads and flyers, too. It was everywhere. You saw it when you were commuting and buying groceries - there was no escaping the painfully cute ads about ‘alphas who just want to help.’ Whatever - that was your take on it. More like alphas just looking to take advantage of omegas.
But your neighbor had even mentioned it to you when you happened to both be poolside.
“They’re really gentle,” she’d said, her face breaking into a soft smile. “I subscribed to their quarterly service,” she admitted in a whisper, like it was some guilty secret.
You had shrugged it off, even if you did consider her fairly astute. You would suffer through your heats because alphas were … generally so ick. Their second gender was their entire identity. It was part of why you lived in an omega-only building.
Even the buyer’s agreement included an alpha clause - alphas could only spend more than two nights if, and only if, they were aiding an omega through their heat, and never during an alpha’s rut. There was even a special entrance and elevator so everyone didn’t get blasted with pheromones when one of them visited.
To you, it made life easier. You worked in an alpha-dominated industry, so you got enough of their side eye and disgusting, lascivious looks.
Even when you had the same, or better, education, experience, everything - they still got to look down on you because of that stupid little box you were required to check in your HR profile. On your ID.
Everywhere you went, being an omega followed you.
You didn’t need an alpha in your personal life reminding you just how they got to constantly fail upwards and blame all their failings on their omega parent.
Instead, you saw a hormone specialist to get blocks for your scent and monthly packs of control pills to balance your heat cycles.
At this point, you had maybe two heats a year. And they only lasted for a few days at most. You weren’t dealing with them every single month. So why even bother having an alpha help with something so limited, you wondered.
But then again, you hadn’t had a heat quite like this in several years.
You’d woken up, knowing something was wrong.
Your body ached, everywhere. You were certain you could feel it in your bones, even. You were drenched in sweat, and you had this horrible need that seemed to come straight from your womb and consume your mind and body like some demonic force.
You needed an alpha.
You needed your alpha - whatever the fuck that meant for someone without one.
You tried getting off a few times, and each time you came, it was like a drop in an ocean. The pain was still there, surging through your limbs, unstoppable. You cried softly, just wanting it to end.
And that was when your phone pinged and you saw the message.
There was a number at the bottom that you quickly copied and pasted. You messaged asking about their services, and almost immediately got a call back.
The male voice on the other end of the line was gentle, asking what part of your cycle you were in (the part that hurts!), what you normally did (not that much), what methods you used (meds and toys), if you’d ever been with an alpha for your heats (a few times / not recently), did you have any preference for an alpha type (not a dick head? no one bossy).
You wanted to scream at this person for being so thorough in their job. You did start to cry a bit towards the end, which he seemed to clock, asking quickly if you were staying hydrated and eating (no, duh).
Apparently, you were considered an ‘emergency case’, which meant you got one of their ‘standby’ alphas. You had no clue what that meant. But someone would be with you quickly.
You were sent contact information for your alpha. His name, phone number, and a photo so you could verify him. There was also a code word that you provided for safety, since he needed to enter your home. You had decided on ‘mittens’ for some reason that seemed rational in the moment.
And within the hour, you heard the soft knock at your door. You threw on your robe and made your way to the door, groaning and doubling over in pain in the hallway before you reached the door. After breathing deeply for a few breaths, you stood and made it to the door. Still breathing carefully, you glanced through the peephole and saw that he looked like the alpha from the contact details.
Same dark hair you’d seen in the photo, bangs falling neatly across his face, looking freshly showered and dried as he glanced down the hallway. You winced as he turned towards the door, holding your stomach. You hadn’t showered since the day before. Still, you paused, staring for just a moment before your body rebelled.
You whined softly, leaning against the cool wood of the door. “Can I just let you in or what?”
He glanced up. “You need to ask for your password so I can confirm it,” he answered softly.
You pressed your fingertips against the door, trying to find some imaginary grip. “What’s my password?” you asked, your annoyance and discomfort growing and intertwining because why did you even need to do this, even though you understood exactly why - it’d been drilled into you in a million afternoon movies - safety, knowing you let the right alpha in…
“Mittens,” he answered.
“Thank fuck,” you muttered, as you flung the door open and waved him in. Any semblance of patience or caring was out the window.
He was dressed plainly, just jeans and a jacket over a t-shirt - sneakers.
His scent hit you hard, though. Salty air, and dried wood, and something a little citrusy - it was like craving something you hadn’t even known existed.
Your mouth started to water almost immediately - you swallowed hard, wanting to ignore whatever it was about him, but your body had its own mind and seemed to have picked up on something from him - more than just his scent.
He glanced back at you as you closed the door. And fuck if he wasn’t handsome…better than the ID-style photo in your messages. Better than the odd distortion that came with the peephole’s slightly fish-eye view.
He was the kind of handsome that was striking...even for an alpha, he was noticeable - gorgeous in a major way. Gorgeous in a way that shouldn’t just be appearing on your doorstep.
You whimpered, clutching your stomach. “Okay, what now?” You breathed, knowing what you wanted to happen, quickly…
He smiled, though, holding out his hand. “I’m Mingyu,” he said.
You shook his hand. “Right, yeah, sorry, Y/n,” you groaned at the niceties - it wasn’t the customer service you were visualizing.
“How is your pain?”
And it kept going. You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know, horrible? 12 out of 10? I might be dying,” you concluded.
He nodded. “Okay, you probably aren’t dying,” he said with a soft smile, “but you don’t have heats often?”
You shook your head, wanting badly for him to hurry through whatever this was. “No, maybe two to three times a year,” you answered flatly.
“Has your doctor explained breakthrough heats, ones like this?” he asked, his voice entirely too polite, too soft and gentle. His bedside manner was better than your doctor’s, actually.
You blinked at him. “What? No, I - I had to change from one type of therapy to another recently, though,” you answered, closing your eyes, wishing that you had read all the pamphlets.
He nodded. “Right, changing therapies can cause this too - it can happen this way for a few cycles and go back to being more manageable,” he said softly.
As he’d gone through all the small, tedious things, he’d been walking closer to you. He reached out, his hand making soft contact with your forehead, feeling your temperature. You were surprised that he kissed your cheek too, a tender brush of his lips that made your eyelids flutter closed. “I’m sorry it hurts,” he murmured, his voice suspiciously sincere and warm against your skin.
You nodded and opened your eyes. “Thanks,” you mumbled.
You remembered what your neighbor had said about their service being ‘gentle’ - this was almost shockingly gentle. The way he cupped your cheek and held you for a moment, just gazing into your eyes. You told yourself it was probably just to figure out if your pupils were dilated.
He stroked your cheek, though. “Have you eaten?”
You shook your head. Because no, massive pain. Duh.
He nodded, still gazing at you softly. “Will you show me where you’re nesting?”
You nodded, leaning into his touch, realizing how badly you wanted the contact - how badly you wanted him, maybe. Even what he was doing, the barest of the bare minimum, was soothing somehow.
You didn’t want him to stop touching you.
He kissed your temple, like he knew what you were thinking. “I’m right here, everything’s okay,” he whispered, his voice low and sweet, as his arms looped around your waist, hugging you close for a moment. You noticed the way he pulled you gently into him, your upper body connecting with his, point-by-point, feeling his warmth - and the second soft kiss he pressed to your temple. It was the first moment you felt yourself relax. You held his shoulder, squeezing it, not having words for the way certain muscles were starting to unwind - you pressed your fingertips deeper into the muscle of his upper arm.
After a few moments, he let you go, and you led him to your bedroom. Your nest was unbelievably half-assed, just some blankets from your sofa - ones you liked, but still, it wasn’t the kind of nest you would see in any omega magazine. But you rarely had heats like this. You didn’t have a bunch of clothes from a mate or anything like that. You just had what was cozy.
And felt warmth creep into your cheeks because why were you letting someone see you like this again?
You sighed and sat on the bed, glancing at him like he might be judging you for being a ‘bad’ omega.
“Does this like go into my notes or something? ‘Sub-par at nesting’?” You asked.
He shook his head. “No, and when I say ‘nest’ - it’s just wherever you feel safe and comfortable,” he said, walking closer, reaching out, his fingers going gently to your temples, rubbing small circles, the pads of his thumbs brushing along your cheeks.
Your eyes closed. This was nothing like your last time with an alpha.
After a few moments, he asked, “Is your pain still as bad?”
“It doesn’t have the same edge, but it’s still there,” you whispered, leaning into him again. It was a strange feeling to crave someone’s touch.
“Do you want to try some different things?” He asked.
Your brows knitted - his fingers still making the same small movements. “Different how?” you asked.
You could hear his small laugh. “Um, things like massage - touch that isn’t necessarily sexual,” he explained. “But it can also help calm you down and help you get used to my being here, too,” he added.
You nodded, understanding what he meant. Some omegas could have intense reactions to alphas they weren’t partnered with - even if they were close to one another normally. It could be a bit more predator and prey than anyone asked for…or freezing up. Heats could be a strange time for an omega.
“That sounds like a good place to start,” you murmured.
You listened to him when he asked you to move back onto the bed - to lie down. Because why not? His scent was stronger in the room - the wood notes were dry like kindling, not green.
Lying there, you closed your eyes and listened to him moving around, each little sound letting you know exactly where he was, how close, and that he paused, his fingertips tracing along the top of your foot. “Still okay?” he asked, voice small.
You nodded, eyes still closed.
You heard him return to undressing, the soft landing of his jeans on the hardwood. You felt the lightest touch against your ankle - his thumb and first finger squeezing carefully. “Turn over for me?”
You did what he asked, turning over, letting your robe move with you. You felt the bed shift as he joined you - he was straddling you, his knees on either side of your low back.
“Is it okay for me to touch you?” His voice was soft.
You nodded, still surprised by the careful way he was approaching you. His hands traced down the center of your back and out over your ribs, then down to meet at your tailbone.
You felt and heard the way you exhaled as your body settled. He stayed there, hands working along your back through your robe.
It worked to acclimate you, but you knew it was starting to feel more like edging at some point when you whined and turned and caught his hands. “I need - this isn’t enough,” you said, voice rushed as you flopped back down. You’d barely made eye contact, but you felt the way your panties were starting to stick to your pussy.
“Tell me if anything is too much?” he asked.
You nodded.
He smoothed your hair to the side and pulled the collar of your robe down. You shifted for him, freeing your arms from the silk, feeling it trail softly down your back as he exposed your almost naked skin.
He smoothed oil over your shoulders and down your back. His hands felt amazing as they traced over your back, squeezing gently in certain places. You could feel some of your muscles relaxing, even if his approach still felt slightly cautious to you.
You sighed, soaking in his warmth.
“Is it okay?” he asked.
You nodded.
He wasn’t applying any intense pressure, just enough to soothe you, and for you to be surrounded by his scent. You were surprised by how much stronger it had become since he had arrived, actually.
“Do you feel okay with me doing more?”
Again, you nodded.
When his lips brushed the nape of your neck, though, you felt a warmth tingle through you. You moaned softly.
The sound seemed to have been the invitation he was waiting for.
It was like a moan had unlocked a different experience. You gasped with relief as he kissed along your shoulder, biting you gently, just the pressure of his canines against your skin made you shiver and ache in a new way - a sweet way.
You could feel how hard he was getting behind you. His cock heavy against the swell of your hip. You wanted to feel that heaviness buried inside you.
He moved, his lips trailing to your throat, kissing and licking. You gasped, mumbling his name as you reached back, letting your fingers catch in his hair. You felt his hips grind gently against you.
“So beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, kissing down your spine. “Lovely little omega,” he breathed, “want to breed you full,” he whispered, “give you all my pups.”
You shivered, hearing his voice so close and his words that seemed to resonate deeper than you wanted to think about.
His hands traced down your ribs and sides as he spoke - down and under your hips, pulling your ass back and up. You could feel his dick pulsing against you as his hands slid to grasp your inner thighs. You felt his hips rut into you more seriously.
You tugged his hair gently, moaning and whimpering with need. “Please,” you asked softly, “hurts - needs to be full,” you whined with a gasp as you felt his fingers shift and start to tease you open.
“I know,” he mumbled, “I can feel just how much you need me - so wet already - smell so sweet, too,” he said, still teasing and kissing your throat.
You shivered, loving his voice, his touch, the way his teeth grazed your sensitive skin. You wanted to sink back on his fingers, his dick, anything really. Whatever he would give you.
It was his fingers first - long, thick fingers. They pushed into you - in and out, deeper and deeper - you didn’t care how obscene it sounded. You were leaking slick, your pussy weeping to be full before he’d even started. You heard his breath catch as he worked his fingers deeper - the soft way he sighed as he fitted them fully into you. You hadn’t expected that - for him to sound like he was enjoying it so much.
“Taking me so well,” he said under his breath.
You nodded, humming in agreement. “Feels so good,” you breathed, your own fingers wound into the edge of a blanket, squeezing tightly against the orgasm you knew was approaching.
You weren’t sure why, but you had assumed it would be clinical and stiff, or someone who was rough, too rough, probably.
But he was neither.
He was gentle, listening to every sound you made for him, seeming to be just as turned on as you were and just as needy for you to come.
It barely took a few minutes for you to orgasm around his fingers - you were dripping for him already. And it was such a relief. Such an intense relief - you could breathe again. He hugged you - your back pressing to his chest, and his fingers still working inside you, knowing you could keep coming.
“Tell me if I need to stop,” he said, swallowing loudly. You nodded, mewling softly as another orgasm started to build.
You came with a small cry, “Oh, fuck.” You whined, shivering and trembling, his fingers still inside you.
“Shh, doing so well, pet,” he said, his voice reassuring. “Just relax for me, let me take care of you,” he whispered.
You nodded, already soft and pliant in his arms and on the precipice of another orgasm.
You came again, almost soundless besides your breathing.
He finally sat up and moved to turn you over. You watched the way he looked at you, his eyes trailing down your body like he was memorizing you. It was almost like a caress.
It was sweet - he was sweet - everything was sweet. You pushed him back gently, running your hands down his chest and abs and further down his stomach. He was so hard, leaking, too.
You grasped him, giving his dick a small stroke. He hummed, grinning. “You don’t have to—”
You licked your lips. “I know.”
‘Need’ wasn’t the point - you wanted to - you wanted to make him come. You teased his slit and felt his hand cover yours, squeezing you to tighten your grip on him, slowing your pace. “Like that,” he mumbled.
You smirked, letting him set the pace, feeling the easy way he guided you along his entire length, squeezing at the base, just right.
You watched his head drop to one side - his eyes closed. “Close?”
He nodded.
“Don’t move - do it here,” you said, wanting it where he was, on the sheets, in your barely-a-nest nest.
He didn’t move, even as he came, dripping over both your hands, onto your side, the sheets. It was easy then, the way you both wiped your hands in the sheets that definitely smelled like both of you. He barely gave you a moment before he was sliding in - all of him, but the slide was so easy - so fucking good.
You whined and groaned, your fingers digging into his shoulders and back as he fucked into you. You knew you arched off the bed through another orgasm.
But he just pulled you into a new position. Him behind you, you on all fours, open - and again, he pushed in, pulling your hips where he was hitting the sweetest spot with every thrust.
You buried your face in the sheets, your hand wrapping in them uselessly - you moaned into the mattress through your next orgasm.
He was still hard, though. “Still good?” he asked, voice ragged at the edges.
You leaned up, barely surfacing, nodding. “Yeah, don’t stop,” you managed.
“Good,” he muttered, as his hands squeezed your ass like he wished he could leave fingerprints.
He didn’t need to be rough, though. He was too relentless to be rough, too - every move of his hips was so perfect and consistent that every sound you made after some point was a soft cry.
He turned you over, though, leaning in, kissing you slowly. “One more?”
You nodded.
He grinned and moved onto his knees - he caught your ankle and pulled your leg over his shoulder, his hands moving under your ass, holding your hips where he wanted them as he sank into you.
You blinked hard at the sudden feeling of it, so full, so stretched - too good to worry if you could breathe…you yelped softly as he started to move, his cock hitting every single spot you could ever fathom needing someone to hit.
You came fast and hard, adding to everything already on your sheets, earning a grin from him. “Love when it’s like that,” he said, his hips working faster then - you only heard him and that specific sound of skin against skin.
And then he was groaning, slowing, and the heat filling you was new and sweet.
“Fuck,” he moaned, finally looking finished.
He leaned down, kissing you. His lips were soft against yours. He stayed there, his cock still inside you - you could feel his knot - he hadn’t knotted you - he’d done everything but. Maybe later, you decided. Your heat wasn’t over yet.
He pulled back slowly, his fingers grazing your jaw as he gazed down at you. “Any cravings?”
You blinked. “Besides this?” You flushed, wondering where that response came from.
He smirked. “Besides me,” he smiled, looking pleased. “You need to eat,” he whispered as he smoothed your hair.
You nodded, trying to think. You hummed softly, leaning into his hand. “Name some foods,” you said, half-teasing, but he started to list things off anyway.
⊹ ₊ ݁.
You ended up with a burger and fries. It was perfect, though. A perfect break. He showered with you while you waited for food and sat eating with you in your living room.
When you were finished, you climbed into his lap, still needy, still wanting touch. His touch. You nuzzled into him, you could swear his scent was more intense, almost slightly sweet around the edges.
You sighed, nuzzling against his throat. “How does it work? Do you stay?” You asked, voice barely audible.
He nodded. “Until you’re through it, yeah,” he answered, his fingers trailing through your hair.
You hummed softly. You wanted to ask him things, like why he was so…whatever he was. You wondered what the job description was, even. But you didn’t. That small inner voice of doubt kept you from asking anything that might be meaningful.
He held you close the rest of the night. He slept next to you. And when you woke up crying during the night, he held you close - his dick sliding in so easily - he fucked you tenderly until your tears slowed. He held you delicately, filling you with every thrust.
You could feel his knot growing. You trailed your fingers through his hair, staring up at him, holding his gaze. “Please,” you breathed into the dark.
He licked his lips. “You sure?”
You nodded. “Need it, need you, need my alpha,” you said, groaning at the way he started to push in further. You had no idea how big his knot was, but you could feel yourself stretching to take him. You wanted every bit of him.
You whimpered, coming when he did, feeling your body finally relaxing, giving in as his knot filled you, calming you, keeping everything inside, just like it was supposed to be.
You fell asleep like that.
⊹ ₊ ݁.
You woke up to him still holding you. His scent surrounded you like a soft blanket. You didn’t want to move. It was strange, the feeling of not wanting to part from someone. Worse was the deeper feeling that it would hurt when you did. It made you anxious, the idea that he would leave after another day or so. You guessed that you would probably never see him again.
He sighed gently. “Don’t worry,” he whispered as his fingers traced gently against your side.
You swallowed tightly, knowing you hadn’t said anything out loud. You had only thought those things. And he had answered you. He nuzzled closer, murmuring for you to try to sleep, to rest. You nodded, hoping sleep would clear your mind.
⊹ ₊ ݁.
When you woke up for the second time, there was breakfast, and sex, and movies, and cuddling, and sex, and lunch, and so on. You fell asleep after he knotted you late that night.
And things started to ebb the second morning with him. And by the third morning, you started to feel almost normal.
You were still sad for him to leave, though. You tried telling yourself that you were just a client - he did this with other omegas. It was his job to be nice to you - he could hate you and be really good at hiding it.
None of that mattered, though - you didn’t want him to leave. And you had no idea how to tell him either.
It was painful to walk him to the door. You were still holding his hand, even as he crossed the threshold. He squeezed your hand gently, telling you it would be ‘okay.’ You managed to hold back your tears until the door was firmly closed.
You sat in your hallway, miserable, a different kind of ache settling over you than what you had started with. You sat there for a long time, wondering if you were right about what you had felt. You closed your eyes tightly, telling yourself it wasn’t real.
You stood up and tried going about your day, catching up on emails. But you were still feeling a bit tired and sore, so you’d taken a nap in what was left of your nest. His scent was still there, soothing you, even if he was gone. You prayed it would last, that his scent would linger. You weren’t sure you could sleep without it.
And when you woke up to hear rain pelting against your windows - it was like the weather had decided to match your mood. You felt despondent, lying there, knowing you needed to wash your sheets.
You decided that you couldn’t hang on to him. That you were being unreasonable. And that you probably needed to eat.
But even walking into your kitchen, it smelled like him. The air smelled like him. You almost cried. Because you didn’t believe in mates and finding someone with that scent that stuck in your mind - that one scent that was only ever meant for you - the one that you could follow through a crowd of people if you needed to because it would always lead you to him.
You leaned against the counter, wondering what you were even supposed to do - it was a service and not for matchmaking. You sighed, trying to collect yourself. Trying to forget his scent and the way he seemed to read your mind at various points.
You finally started looking for food. And that was when you found his parting gift.
He’d left you food, something he made while you were sleeping. You were surprised to find the lemon cake waiting for you. Something citrusy and sweet. It almost hurt to look at.
But then you saw the note he’d left too. And there was his number written neatly, and a more hastily written note, asking you to call him if it had felt ‘real’ to you too.
You stared at it, reading it more than once. Checking the paper to make sure it was real and not something your mind had created.
You tried to play it cool. You told yourself that you would wait a few days.
But that hadn’t lasted. You made it all of ten minutes before texting him and asking him if he had plans for dinner.
Because it had felt very real for you.
a/n: if you didn't know i enjoy writing omegaverse, now you do ^^ and mingyu...i haven't posted for him yet, so why not some omegaverse with soulmates who meet in a sort of weird way
love it - hope you had fun reading
okieeee byeee
xx
♡ 𝚝𝚘𝚊𝚜𝚝
read more here mingyu m.list | seungcheol m.list | general m.list
>>>alpha cheol finding out his mate might be another alpha
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭
pairing: c.sc / f!reader
summary: seungcheol shouldn’t have a crush on another alpha, but he can’t help the way he feels about you
word count: 4.6k
genre: a/b/o au (omegaverse) | coffee shop au | college au | alpha!seungcheol | sigma!reader | y/n used sparingly | foreplay | sex mentioned | intentional lowercase
rating: 18+, mdni, explicit
warnings: explicit language | drinking | suggestive
seungcheol couldn’t help that he liked y/n. he knew he was supposed to find some cute omega to be with, but he had yet to meet a single omega who set off every alpha sense he had the way y/n did.
he knew the moment he met her, when he walked into the coffee shop and the scent of sugared raspberries and apple mint slapped him in the face, that he wanted her as his mate - his full mate - all the fancy ceremonies, everything, no question - he wanted her to be his and for him to be hers.
he’d been meeting joshua there, and just standing in line had made him antsy because he knew the scent was hers, and the closer they got to the head of the line, the more nervous he was. he wasn’t sure that he had even really placed an order or if joshua had stepped in and saved him from being an absolute bumbling mess.
he hadn’t been able to think about anything else the rest of the day. even when he had finished his coffee in class, he practically growled at joshua for trying to throw away the cup - as long as her scent still lingered, he was keeping it. lying in bed that first night, seungcheol felt certain that he knew just how silky her hair would feel against his skin and how delicious she would taste.
the only problem he had was that he had never really had to try when it came to attracting omegas. they always seemed to find him. they all seemed to think it was cute that he smelled just a bit like cherries. he had never been out and been alone for any serious amount of time - there was always someone who wanted to sit in his lap. and he sometimes wondered if some of them didn’t keep a calendar of when his ruts were because they sometimes seemed to know before he did.
but no matter how many times he went to get coffee, y/n didn’t react the way he expected. she didn’t ask him to meet her in the bathroom or the breakroom or give him her number or any of the things he was used to. she knew his order and how to spell his name. she smiled when she said ‘hi,’ and sometimes she asked how his day was. she had called him cute once, when he wanted the mango lemon square thing they had and had tapped on the glass a little too much. but the only thing he could consider flirting were the little smiley faces or hearts she drew next to his name when she wrote it almost every morning. it was the tiniest gesture.
but he literally had a desk drawer overflowing with all of the cup sleeves she had written his name on. he could pull them out and stare at the progression from smiley faces to just a few with hearts to the return of smiley faces, and finally to only hearts. he definitely preferred the hearts. even if they were purely random - he wanted the little hearts.
really though, he wanted the girl drawing the hearts - he wanted to pull her over the counter and fuck her while everyone else waited in line until they were finished. privacy was his last concern some mornings when he was feeling particularly desperate for her attention.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
it wasn’t until he was out with mingyu and whatever omega he was with that night, that seungcheol ever considered that y/n didn’t act like an omega because she wasn’t an omega.
seungcheol had seen y/n standing to the side, sipping a drink and talking to a friend. he watched her, jealous of everything from her friend to her drink straw. he couldn’t help that he loved seeing her out - he loved when she dressed in skirts that were just short enough for him to imagine hiking them up and pushing her panties to the side and eating her the way he wanted.
he heard the omega laugh, “why is he paying attention to her? she’s an alpha too.”
he had glanced at the omega, “who’s an alpha?”
she stared at him like he was an idiot before answering, “y/n - she’s an alpha - you know, as in useless to you, unless she’s down for bitching,” she smiled as she delivered the snide remark.
seungcheol stared for a moment, slightly shocked that she had even mentioned bitching, but still letting what she said wash over him.
mingyu, though, laughed nervously, “i think you need a drink,” and was immediately pulling the omega out of seungcheol’s range.
seungcheol stayed where he was, reeling from the random fact that had been dropped on him. he had never thought y/n might be an alpha, and even if she were, she was the sweetest smelling alpha he had ever met. he glanced up again, finding her quickly, despite the low light. he tried to see her differently, as in not the person he wanted to mark - he tried to make his mind see her as another alpha.
but even in the crush of alphas and omegas and all the scents that swirled around him, seungcheol could easily pick hers. he could follow it like a trail if he wanted. he was surprised to see her glance at him then. more surprising was the small smile she gave him and the way she held his gaze for a few moments before glancing back to her friend.
he realized quickly that he didn’t care if she was an alpha - he wanted who he wanted, especially when her gaze returned to him and lingered. he watched her finish her drink and leave her friend to get a new one. he got up too, following her to the bar. as he walked behind her, he tried to see what about her would make anyone think she was an alpha.
he had met female alphas, and they were like female omegas, some were hot, some were fun, some were annoying - females were females to him. especially beautiful ones with long hair that filled his dreams. he loved the way her hips swayed as she walked. he wished he could walk up behind her and slide his arm around her waist and nuzzle close to her - he wanted to scent her so no one else would even look at her the rest of the night, or tomorrow even if he did it right.
he stood next to her though. she glanced at him, and he watched her smile.
“hi, seungcheol,” she spoke just loud enough for him to hear her.
he smiled, “hi.”
she smiled again and picked up two drinks, “i only know your coffee order, so i took a guess,” she held a drink out to him.
it crossed his mind that an omega would never buy a drink for an alpha, not unless they were together. and even then. he took the drink, noticing the cherry and orange peel sitting on top of the cup - he wondered how he smelled to her, as he sipped the drink and it hit him, the drink - that was how he smelled to her. cognac, and bitters, and the slightest sweetness.
“good?” she asked, watching him.
he nodded, reaching out to let his fingers skim along her hip.
she bit her lip gently, “you aren’t like i thought you would be.”
he watched her and leaned closer, “how should i be?” he asked, letting his arm snake around her waist, pulling her closer.
she smiled - he watched the way her cheeks flushed, “um, just,” she paused, and he could feel her hand on his shoulder, “you kind of have a reputation,” she offered, her fingertips tracing along his shoulder.
“i do?” he asked, smiling - he knew exactly what she meant.
she nodded, humming positively in response.
“is it that bad?” he asked, tone more serious.
she shook her head, “i just didn’t think i would be buying you a drink, you know,” she whispered, her voice playful.
he realized how close he was holding her - how warm she was - how incredible she smelled and felt.
he leaned down, “come home with me?” he asked, not hesitating.
she turned, and she was so close to him then - he tried to take her in. but her eyes had gone a bit wider. he suddenly felt like he had said the wrong thing.
he blushed, “sorry,” he blurted out before she could answer him.
she bit back a laugh - he felt her fingers trace through his hair, “you’re so cute for me.”
he blushed harder, pouting - he was the loser between them - she was the hot one and he was the loser that everyone looked at with curiosity because ‘him with her?’
“not the bathroom?” she asked, her smile faded - he felt like she was teasing him, but she sounded game too.
he might have been getting hard, but it didn’t matter - he shook his head. maybe if she were someone else the bathroom would suffice, but she wasn’t someone else.
every surface in his apartment - yes, please, he would beg on his knees.
dirty club bathroom with stalls that locked only through thoughts and prayers - only if she wanted it there.
he barely felt the way her hand had slid between them, but he unquestionably felt the way she palmed him through his pants. it was like there was no one else besides them when she touched him - her perfect, slender fingers tracing along his cock, while she pressed a delicate kiss just beneath his jaw. he sighed, glancing and realizing they were still surrounded. he didn’t want anyone else around.
he reached down, catching her jaw gently before she made him groan like he was the one in heat, “not here, baby girl.”
she nodded, “so take me home, then.”
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
he kept his arm around her as they left together.
the issue that grew in his mind while they grabbed a cab to his, was the fact that he needed to remember everything about how it felt the first time they fucked. he wouldn’t be happy if there was a single moan he couldn’t recall the next day. that sentiment didn’t seem to stop him from playing with the hem of her skirt, pushing it just a little bit higher and then higher sill - he could smell how wet she was for him. he felt her hand catch his just as his fingertips swiped against the crotch of her panties.
“cute,” she whispered.
he grinned, “cute when i fuck you too, right?”
she kissed his cheek, “you want me too much right now for that,” she whispered.
“do i?” he pulled her hand closer to him, his fingers shifting to slot between hers.
she nodded, “you would have already done it if that were what you wanted with me,” she smiled, knowingly - she was so certain.
he pressed the tip of his tongue hard against the inside of his cheek. she wasn’t wrong, though.
even when they were in his apartment, he hesitated. she was in front of him, sitting on the countertop, he was between her legs - he could fuck her there - she was wet and needy. he wanted to fuck but couldn’t seem to get past how good it felt just to kiss her. or the way she tasted. or the idea of her in his bed and how good his sheets would smell.
she finally grabbed him, holding his cheeks gently, she stared at him for a moment, “you just want me next to you in bed, don’t you? and not to fuck, at least not tonight.”
he flushed brightly and couldn’t help but nod.
she whined softly, “fuck,” she whispered, sounding distraught, “i should go.”
he grabbed her before she could move, “why?”
“because, i kept telling myself you weren’t into me - that you’re just, you know, cute,” she trailed off.
he blinked slowly, “why wouldn’t i be? because you’re an alpha?”
she looked up at him, a shocked look on her face, “why do you think i’m an alpha?”
“someone told me”—
“that i’m an alpha?” she sounded even more confused the second time she asked.
he shrugged, “i mean you’ve never acted like other omegas around me.”
she sighed, “i’m guessing you’ve never met a sigma?”
he’d heard of sigmas - he knew they were rare, or he thought they were. he shook his head all the same.
“we don’t,” she sighed, “i like being chased - i like flirting with you, drawing little hearts and stuff, hoping you notice and like magically talk to me just because i daydream about you.”
he could feel her hand tracing along the center of his chest. “then why would you leave when i’m saying i noticed?”
“because i’m not what you think i am,” she said, sounding uncertain. “besides, i’m way braver when i’ve been drinking,” she whispered, glancing at him shyly.
he watched her, realizing he was maybe wrong - she turned him into a dork, and he made her shy, at least when she was sobering up. he, on the other hand, was hopeless either way.
he pressed closer, not wanting any distance between them, “so stay the night,” he kissed her cheek, “at least let me scent you so no one else talks to you.”
she seemed more uncertain than he was comfortable with.
“please don’t make me spell out how long i’ve been waiting,” he whispered.
“you just admitted you want to scent me,” she said, smiling.
he shrugged, “because i do.”
she leaned against him, “can i shower? borrow clothes?”
he tried to be calm, “yeah, of course.”
he wondered if she could feel how fast his heart was beating.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
he tried not to think about her naked in his bathroom and checked his phone instead. his gc had exploded - all questions for him - down to “who’s top?”
he rolled his eyes, not in the mood for his friends. food, though, he could eat.
he was scrolling menus when the door opened. he hated that he was too engrossed in a burger menu to look up, but he was happy when she sat next to him. he had never been around her when her scent wasn’t blended with other things, coffee, other people’s.
he gave her his phone, asking for her to pick while he nuzzled against her throat. she gasped softly when he couldn’t resist pressing his teeth against her skin. he didn’t mark her, but he wanted her to know how he felt. how it would feel.
“are you dying for a burger?”
“no,” he mumbled.
he knew she had placed an order when he felt both of her hands on him. they made out for a few minutes, but he pulled back - he checked his phone and saw the delivery time.
“i should shower, too.”
but he looked down to see her in his t-shirt and boxers. he bit his lip lightly, glancing up at her.
she just smiled.
“do sigmas nest?”
she laughed, “it’s not that time for me,” she answered, still smiling.
“still.” he ran his hands along her sides and down her hips. “i like that you’re in my apartment - in my room - in my bed…” he trailed off, running his thumbs over the waistband of the boxers. “and now you’re only dressed in my clothes.”
she gave him a light push, “go shower - it’s not like you’re going to let me open the door to some stranger.”
he imagined for a moment if she were wearing more clothes and shook his head, “nope, but seriously, make my bed smell like you, please?” he asked, raising his brows and letting his lower lip just out in an exaggerated pout.
“you really are this cute, aren’t you?”
he nodded - his face quickly working into a grin, “and possessive.”
she hummed, “i did get that impression.”
he smiled, leaning down to kiss her again - soft, chaste, just enough.
she caught his shirt lightly before he pulled away, “i liked when we were in the cab though, what you were doing with my underwear - you know, before i’m too embarrassed to tell you,” she murmured.
he watched her blush as she said it - he nodded, wondering how the stars had managed to align just right for this moment to even occur. he never wanted her to be embarrassed to tell him what she liked, but that wasn’t something he could address before their food showed up.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
y/n woke up slowly, her head hurting a bit from drinking the night before. she knew before she opened her eyes that she wasn’t in her apartment.
she also knew that she wasn’t alone. she bit her lip softly, remembering the night before. she didn’t really need to go through what she remembered - she knew his scent much better than she should. she knew exactly what alpha she had been drunk enough to talk to and go home with.
but they hadn’t had sex, which was maybe concerning. everything she knew about seungcheol largely revolved around the fact that he loved omega pussy and wasn’t shy about it.
but, she reminded herself once again, she wasn’t an omega. so why would an alpha who so clearly loved omegas ever pay attention to her, she wondered, even as she was lying in bed with him. his scent swirling gently in the air.
she had noticed it the night before, that his apartment only smelled like him. there wasn’t a trace of anyone else, which was difficult for almost anyone to maintain. she hadn’t smelled any of his friends’ scents that she knew from the coffee shop, and definitely not the scents of omegas she had seen him with.
it was literally just his scent. and now a tiny bit of hers.
she had been slightly shocked that he asked her if she nested. it was always uncomfortable to be slightly different, especially when anyone noticed. but he hadn’t been asking in the tone that people usually asked either - he asked as though he wanted her to nest exactly where she was…in his bed.
she sighed and felt him press closer, “you okay?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
she nodded, even though she felt her heart start to race. she never went home with alphas. she never invited them to her apartment either. she’d also never met an alpha who so clearly wanted to fuck and then backed out because he wanted to be close to her even more.
which, in all fairness, seungcheol seemed completely happy with being close. he wanted to be holding her or pressed against her, even when they had first talked in the club, he was so quick to pull her close. not to mention, he’d seemed beyond annoyed to have to leave her the night before even to answer the door.
she felt him shift - she felt his soft lips press gently to her neck.
“what’s wrong?” he asked, voice still low and soft.
she felt his lips shift a bit lower - she couldn’t help moving to the side, giving him the room he clearly wanted. she felt the gentle, teasing kisses and bites.
when he was satisfied, he leaned up so he could see her. she was used to seeing him look tired, it was part of why she ever went so far as to ask him how his day was - she always felt bad for him when he looked exhausted.
seeing him look tired and have him be so close though, was - she wasn’t sure, exactly, but her hands seemed to have a mind of their own. she watched them reach up and smooth his unruly black hair. she wanted to lull him back to sleep while she thought…or maybe she could find something to clean anxiously while he slept for at least three days.
he leaned down, his lips pressing softly to hers. she loved how he felt, how warm and plush his lips were. his kisses were gentle and unhurried. she felt his fingers trace through her hair - he was clearly in no rush whatsoever.
he broke the kiss though, his forehead pressing gently to hers, “please tell me if i did something?” he whined softly.
he hadn’t done anything. she smoothed his hair, and shook her head, “you didn’t,” she whispered.
he hummed to himself, “then why do you feel nervous?” he asked as his fingers traced along the neckline of the t-shirt she was wearing, making the lightest contact with her skin.
she flushed, wondering why he put such a fine point on things.
“i’m not,” she lied.
he groaned, “even if you weren’t shifting around and wiggling and making little sounds, you’re right next to me, and everything about you feels anxious,” he was watching her now. his gaze was soft and curious.
“even your scent is different,” he whispered, his fingertips traced along her jaw. she wished he didn’t sound quiet so concerned.
she wanted to shrug him off - she wanted to say he was just hungover and there was nothing to sense, least of all from her.
but she knew what he meant, he meant he could feel her - as in the way alphas felt their mates and their mates could feel them, and that however it started between them, however intense it was, it would only increase if they bonded fully.
she never thought she would meet an alpha who could feel what she was feeling, much less sound anything resembling worried.
he was still watching her, waiting patiently for some explanation. she fumbled for the right words. and wondered why it had been so much easier when she had had several drinks.
she wanted to ask him why on earth he would want to even scent her out of all his options, but she had known for months - not ‘why’ so much, but that he did for reasons that she couldn’t fathom.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
she had realized the moment she swapped back from drawing little hearts around his name to just a smiley face - he had looked like she slapped him when he grabbed his coffee. worse he looked like he wanted an answer regarding the change to his cup sleeve doodles, or at least to lodge a complaint with the offending party, aka her.
she had the tiniest urge to hide in the employee bathroom or under the counter. she didn’t care which - she never thought a change to her doodles could maybe ruin his day a little bit.
she had wondered if he would say something about it. she had imagined him cornering her and asking ‘why?’ in a very stern voice - but he hadn’t. instead, he looked like he was buffering for almost an hour, but he left like normal.
and then the next time she saw him, he was sheepish and reserved - all beacuse of the missing little hearts. she had felt bad almost immediately - she knew she had bothered him, but not so much that his personality changed.
she had drawn lots of hearts that day to make up for the missing ones. and when he got his coffee - it was like she had aligned the planets just for him. he looked happy and almost smug when he grabbed his drink.
once upon a time, she normally doodled things for almost everyone’s drink, but that was before she met him, and she slowly noticed that her doodles were more and more unconsciously reserved for seungcheol’s coffee cup and no one else’s.
it helped that he was a regular and came in virtually every day - so all of her doodling could be seungcheol focused. sometimes there were happy hearts and sometimes they were surrounded by clouds - but they were just for him.
she had only gone slightly red in the face when her co-worker asked her why “lover boy” got all of her drawings.
she had shrugged, “he’s cute,” she said simply.
“yeah, who doesn’t love alphas like that?” she had gone on, “you know the type that always let omegas help them through their ruts but are nowhere to be found when an omega needs help, but that’s just me,” she had finished, her tone harsh.
y/n didn’t really have any thoughts, since she had never considered asking an alpha to help her through her heats. in her mind, it was way too personal of a thing. the sheer idea of seungcheol and his cute dimples seeing her at her most vulnerable and horniest state was far and away the last condition she would want him to see her in.
besides, all she did was draw cute things that he seemed to like. it wasn’t like she was chasing him down or something.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
but here she was, in seungcheol’s room, in his bed, no less. she felt his weight pressing down against her, keeping her still. she savored the feeling.
he was still playing with her hair. his gaze had shifted. she was used to seeing his profile. she loved the shape of his lips.
she had no idea how long they had been this way, but she was fairly certain he wasn’t going to let her get out of this so easily. he was heavier than her for starters.
she considered distracting him. but she knew the truth was easier.
she sighed, “why do—” she paused, “why do even pay attention to me?” she asked timidly.
he glanced at her, his large eyes, only getting larger. he looked puzzled by the question. he was stuck in his buffering mode again.
“because, i just do - the first time i met you, i’ve never felt so…certain,” his cheeks brightened to a gentle shade of pink.
“there’s other people—,” she started.
he shook his head emphatically, “no, there’s not - there’s just you,” he said with complete certainty, still playing with her hair.
he finally glanced at her, his gaze was soft, “i’m serious - there’s no one else - check my phone - ask my friends, whatever you want,” his voice was more serious.
she shook her head, “i don’t mean,” she sighed, “i’m trying to ask why do you seem so set on me? i’m not brave, i barely manage to flirt with you even,” she could feel her face brightening as she spoke.
but before she could continue, she felt him kiss her. it was a much longer kiss than she expected. she thought it would be quick, just to shush her. but no, it was mellow and sweet, and his taste lingered on her tongue when they parted.
he stared down at her, his embarrassment gone, “because i can feel you from across the room - just like i know you’re anxious now, i know when your grumpy in the morning, and i just want to make you feel better, reassure you,” he whispered, kissing her again, “do anything for you,” his lips traced along her jaw.
she hugged him close, feeling the immensity of what he had said. it was romantic and very, very old-world to think about finding a soulmate based on scents and innate connections. it was the kind of thing that reminded her of her great-great grandmother sitting and telling her her soulmate fortune by reading the tea leaves left in her cup one afternoon.
she traced her fingers along his back, loving how smooth and firm his muscles were - she knew he enjoyed the way it felt. she didn’t need to ask him. just like she didn’t need to ask him about drinks or what food he was craving.
she was used to ignoring the sigma part of herself. but she took pleasure in feeling him relax against her. she tried to remember what her soulmate fortune had been, but she could only remember that she thought it was all a bit fake. she nuzzled closer to him and fell asleep.
a/n: tbh i had more planned for them , but i think finding each other works, and they're sexy and i got to use a banner i made like a year ago, so win-win
andddd i couldn't resist actually posting on his bday (still 08.08 in eastern time)
fr hope it was a fun read, especially if omegaverse isn't something you usually click into ^^
>>>when you feel like trash before your period and want to hate everything but your boyfriend makes that hard
𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒐𝒏𝒆-𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔
warnings: explicit language
pairing: c.sc x f!reader
word count: 1.3k
tags: alternate universe | non-idol | fluff | established relationship | slice of life | sweet!c.sc | soft morning | cuddles | cuteness | basically, cheol is cute fundamentally and i can't deny it
You were still in bed.
You’d woken up feeling miserable and had yet to move besides the natural wallowing one did when staying in bed due to a foul mood.
You felt horrible. Not physically…just everything else ever was horrible.
And your boobs were sore.
And not for any obvious reasons, except possibly your impending period.
It was probably that. You decided with a huff and rolled onto your stomach and tried to burrow deeper into your mattress.
Maybe if you went back to sleep - maybe if you just skipped the whole day - very reasonable.
You huffed again, harder this time for anyone in the imaginary back row. Your mind wandered to the fact that something - someone - was missing.
Because you did have a boyfriend who you were fairly certain should at least be next to you.
You reached out and felt for him, your hand making a fairly thorough search of the left side of your mattress, fingers stretched wide, arm reaching.
Nothing, though.
Odd.
He was apparently up doing things. You scrunched your face at the idea of things.
Fuck things, you decided with a groan, pulling your arm back into the protection of the duvet.
It was Saturday. Normally, Seungcheol would still be in bed with you.
You sighed and tried listening for Cheol-sounds - feet moving around in the kitchen, keyboard keys clickity-clacking.
But no.
You didn’t hear anything and assumed he was in some corner with his Switch playing something. Or yours, you wondered. He’d found your otome games once and had gotten super into one storyline and partner - you’d thought he’d gone home when you found him tucked up in your gaming corner - “just five more minutes,” he’d said and waved you away.
He still wouldn’t tell you which game or which storyline or which suitor he was so invested in.
So it wasn’t totally weird to not feel him immediately next to you, except it was early.
Like, suspiciously early for him.
He loved to sleep in - you were used to waking up with him wrapped around you - his naked boy legs twined with yours.
You liked his naked boy legs.
You chewed your lip lightly as you reached from your duvet cocoon to find your phone on the bedside table. You felt around slowly and avoided spilling a glass of water as you managed to grab it and pull it back under.
And then you blinded yourself the moment you unlocked it. “Shit,” you mumbled, scrambling to turn the screen brightness down to something tolerable.
You navigated to your chat with Seungcheol.
[y/n]
where are u??
You could have checked your friend finder but it felt a little too like stalk-y. Friend finder was for like when you got separated in a crowd (which had maybe happened at a theme park and resulted in you having to describe your adult boyfriend to park employees and waiting at a designated dog-mascot statue like someone’s mom…you’d both activated the ‘find-my’ after that).
[cheollie]
corner place w bagels you like
You smiled and turned on your side to text back.
[y/n]
that’s so cute
[cheollie]
🙂↕️ ik
You let out a soft breath. He would brave the busy as fuck bagel shop on a Saturday for you.
You imagined him being jostled around in the line because people were intense over the bagels and literally everyone got jostled, and Seungcheol wasn’t intense that way - he was the least likely to return the jostle in a public line. But you could imagine increasingly comical facial expressions of surprise and annoyance.
His brows would look so serious. His glare would be blinding.
You grinned the grin of someone stupidly happy and curled more under the duvet.
[y/n]
tell me when ur leaving
[cheollie]
u know i’ve stood in line before
[y/n]
yess but they’re scary
[cheollie]
silly
[y/n]
also i wasn’t sure where you were
[cheollie]
ohhh worried
[y/n]
no ofc not
usually ur here tho
[cheollie]
bcs saturday morning
[y/n]
yea yk cuddles :p
You laughed, knowing ‘cuddles’ was the worst word to use. It was the kind of innocuous word that would make him want to correct you and also visibly blush.
Because Saturday mornings were for sleeping in and fucking and calling what he did ‘cuddles’ was so inaccurate. Maybe the aftermath - that was cuddling - breathless, sweaty cuddling.
[cheollie]
cuddles???
is that what we call it now?
[y/n]
maybe
how’s the line
[cheollie]
almost finished
[y/n]
good
miss u
You locked your phone and nudged it to the side. You still felt like shit, but knowing he was almost back with your favorite breakfast made you kind of happy.
And messaging him. It was annoying to smile so much when you basically hated the sun and stars and ground and gravity at the moment.
Or you had when you’d woken up.
And now you felt slightly happy. And you couldn’t even be annoyed about it.
Seungcheol was the least annoying person in your life. Even when he sometimes bleached his hair and wrecked your towels…he was still adorable somehow.
He was too pretty to be upset with. And sweet. And kind. And his dimples made your stomach do weird things…
It was a lethal mixture.
And it would maybe kill you one day.
No matter, though.
You listened to the quiet of the apartment. It wasn’t a bad quiet - it was soft and warm somehow. No noisy neighbors, just your breathing, and distant street noises that no one could escape.
You sighed and thought about getting up, trying to look cute or something, maybe.
But you heard the door open, and your thoughts of cuteness dissipated.
Instead, you listened to the sounds of shoes being kicked off and then movement towards the kitchen, a light rustling of paper, and humming, low and sweet.
You smiled to yourself, trying to track him without moving from your duvet fortress.
It was quiet again.
You waited, wondering where he was this time - probably not gaming in the corner.
You felt him land on the bed and laughed lightly as he pulled you and your duvet fort against him. He nuzzled the duvet between you and him. “I’m back,” he whispered.
You nodded. “I heard you,” you said softly.
He didn’t try to move you. He sighed and hugged you closer. “Miss me?”
“Yes - I already said so—”
“No, you texted, not the same,” he mumbled.
You nodded. “I feel like shit.”
“Yeah, I guessed last night when you tried to fight the Vitamix.”
“Okay, but it has a soup function and it was not soup-ing,” you started to defend yourself.
“Mhmm,” he squeezed you closer.
Even through the duvet, you could feel him - warm from being outside, strong arms, firm torso, and the water notes in his cologne. It was still surprising that he could give you that little whooshy-tingly feeling that started from your scalp and moved like a gentle wave to your toes.
Even when your hormones were in full swing and not in your favor - it still worked. He still worked.
You stayed still for a few minutes. His breathing was steady and gentle.
You swallowed tightly and sighed and started to move around. He loosened his hold, and you worked your way out of the edge of the duvet.
You popped out enough to see him - his face so close to yours. You could feel a smile forming as you reached out, touching his cheek - your fingertips tracing down to his jaw.
He watched you.
Your thumb brushed his lower lip - his plush lips that you adored kissing.
You leaned in then, kissing him softly, your fingertips resting on his cheek. You could feel his smile as he returned the kiss, his hand trailing along your back.
The kiss lasted, turning into smaller kisses and you lying across him.
“You stood in the bagel line for me.”
He laughed. “There are worse lines,” he said, squeezing your sides.
“Maybe—”
“The B train at 10:15 PM,” he challenged.
You grinned. “Oh my god - that’s not the same - that’s the wait,” you whined.
He smiled, the kind that lit his whole face. “Right - the wait…”
You leaned down to kiss him again.
“The wait,” you murmured against his lips.
a/n: just some fluff bcs i do actually love it sm ^^
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srry - everything i planned to post will be delayed by a few days thanks to period related nonsense and my body being like NO for two whole days - srry 😭
the seungcheol x reader tag will go on without me for a few days ;-;
>>>the one where he’s your bodyguard and you've been crushing (and drinking) but gun shots briefly interrupt everything
#𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 (#𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞)
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭
pairing: c.sc / f!reader
summary: y/n has had a bodyguard for some time - and she’s had feelings for him for almost just as long, even if he thinks she’s a brat. But what happens when he goes to a party with her and there are gunshots?
word count: 1.4k
genre/tags: fake dating | bodyguard!seungcheol | forced proximity | mentions of guns and shooting | drinking | penetrative sex | explicit language | intentional lowercase
𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: 18+, 𝘔𝘋𝘕𝘐, 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵
“so how much is my dad paying you to babysit me?” y/n asked, sipping her drink.
he shrugged, “enough to put up with you,” he sipped his mineral water.
she arched a brow, “‘put up with me’?” she asked, incredulous, “me? i’m the problem in this equation?”
he pursed his lips, as though he were giving consideration to what she had asked, “you’re…” he trailed off.
she was ready to punch him in the arm.
he smiled, “you’re more complicated than the kinds of jobs i usually have,” he swigged his mineral water like it would give him some reprieve from the conversation.
she gave a heavy sigh, “complicated how exactly?”
he glanced at her, “you’re kidding, right? where are we right now?” he waved his hand around to demonstrate the location, “you’ve brought me along as your ‘date’ to some friend’s engagement party - never have i ever had that happen before,” he whispered, with a small smile, knowing he had gotten under your skin by pointing out the situation.
“look, if i can’t leave the house without you, why not put you to good use?” she pouted.
“my ‘good use’ is making sure you don’t get hurt, y/n.”
he had at least stopped calling her by her family name, which had been acutely obnoxious - to her anyway. he’d been virtually living with her for eight months. to her, living with anyone for eight months, meant dispensing with formalities.
not to mention she had seen him in his underwear. she had been up late grabbing some water and staring into her fridge, thinking about a snack, but she had been eating healthy at the time, which meant she was light on snacks. so she had gone scrounging - and she screamed when she thought she saw a mouse.
and her screaming meant seungcheol came out of his room to check on her, wearing boxerbriefs and carrying a handgun, which was oddly sexy.
also, she had pegged him as a ‘boxers-only’ guy. but no, she had definitely gotten a very good idea of what equipment he was packing and the mental picture of his very perky ass seared into her brain.
she glanced at him, knowing he looked painfully good in the suit he had picked - it went along with her outfit well.
“you could have just stayed home then, or you could have outed me to everyone here - you certainly know enough about me to make them all at least call me ‘eccentric’,” she leaned on the railing, looking out over the massive party.
everyone was ‘someone’ or related to ‘someone’. and she was mostly just bored. if seungcheol weren’t there, she would have probably been a nuisance just for fun, reminding the groom that he had slept with half the bridesmaids. something like that anyway.
but no, for some reason she felt like if she caused even just a tiny scene while he was there, then maybe he would get blamed, or he would go back to thinking she was childish.
that’s what he had called her initially, a “bored, childish, rich girl” with no clue about the real world. he said it so vehemently that she had slammed her door in his face, and told him to fuck off when he tried to apologize.
she hadn’t talked to him for a week - she would only communicate via text, even if they were in the same room and alone. which may have proved his point, but he had hurt her feelings. and maybe she had been feeling petty.
she stole a glance at him - she liked his profile more than she should. she probably liked him more than she should, not just his profile. she liked everything about him. but she was fairly certain he still considered her a tolerable idiot, at best.
which depressed her. and required that she grab another drink from the waiter who came around. maybe several more. and when she was a bit more lubricated and still considering making some trouble, the thin thread of seungcheol approving of her maybe wasn’t quite enough to tether her to reality.
if anything, it was almost better if she just settled for his disapproval, she reasoned, then she wasn’t chasing some fragile illusion.
she must have been on the verge of something great though because he suddenly grabbed her and pulled her towards a door. she had no idea where they were headed - they went through offices until they hit a stairwell. she couldn’t have been doing anything so offensive that they were taking the stairs. but when she pulled out of his grip, he was quick to grab her back.
“for once, just do what i’m asking without arguing,” he said, voice low and sharp.
she tried to pull away, but he had her in a vice-like grip. and then she heard the sounds - gun shots. and she was frozen for a moment, but she felt the tug on her wrist. seungcheol pulling her, trying to keep her safe. she stopped to pull off her heels and then she was running with him.
her head swam violently as they exited out into the underground car park. until he grabbed her waist and pulled her close, kissing her, backing her into a wall. she felt the rough cement against her naked shoulders, as his hands rushed to touch her and his mouth rushed equally to kiss her. she wound her fingers in his hair, pulling him close, not caring how needy and desperate she seemed.
it took several, long minutes for him to break their kiss. he pulled away so slowly, his fingers still gingerly resting on her skin. she watched him for a moment, and she could see it - if she didn’t pull him back, he would talk himself out of it and make an even higher wall between them.
“don’t stop, seungcheol, you don’t know how much i want you,” she whispered, voice tender and urgent.
he stayed close, but glanced at the door they had just come through, “we need to go,” he whispered, his fingers still played gently across her skin.
she didn’t budge.
“y/n,” he stared, “this - we have to leave,” he stepped closer to her, pressing his body flush against hers, “let’s go home?” he asked softly.
she finally nodded, following him out to the street, walking down a few blocks before grabbing a cab. he didn’t give the driver her exact address. they took a winding way back to her house, going through the back gate and the side door. he didn’t let go of her hand, not even when they were inside, the doors locked and the alarms set.
he kept her close. when she started to turn on the lights, he stopped her - his hand grasping hers gently and pulling it away from the light switches.
and suddenly he was near again, pulling her close, kissing her softly, “come put me to bed?” she asked in a hurried whisper.
he nodded, “anything you want, princess.”
she loved that they both rushed to undress one another, all just to feel skin on skin. he pushed her back gently onto the bed - his fingertips grazed gently against her thigh, as he looked at her.
“so perfect for me,” he murmured, “so beautiful.”
she flushed brightly, reaching for him, “need you,” she pouted.
he nodded, with a smirk, “i know.”
she bit her lip softly, “we were having a moment,” she caught his hand and pulled him down roughly to join her on the bed. she moved so she straddled his hips - she pressed her hands flat on his stomach, loving his smooth skin.
she stared at him before leaning down, she kissed him gently, “you’re perfect too - gorgeous,” she breathed against his lips, “you’re all i want, all i think about.”
she kissed him again, leaning forward, and reaching down between them, pumping his already hard cock, she lined it up and pressed herself down, taking him in. she moaned against his lips. she sat up slowly, adjusting to the stretch and the feeling of being so full. she rolled her hips slowly before she started riding him the way she had imagined a thousand times.
she could hear him, the way he breathed hard and urged her own. his hands tracing over her stomach and hips, reaching up for her breasts.
she didn’t care when they changed positions - when he was behind her, fucking into her, pulling her back towards him, she knew she was arching back towards him. and she came undone, falling back against him - his orgasm following hers - his cum filling her, dripping down her thighs. she gasped softly as they pulled apart. he pulled her close.
“please don’t leave,” she whispered into the soft darkness.
a/n: this was originally a response to a request for "bodyguard + drunk confession" - i think it turned out better than i expected - and yesss another short piece bcs i do love a quickie
this fic marks the countdown of night two of my cheol-nights b-day project - hope it was fun and that you meet me for the next two nights reads ^^
>>> the one where a fire alarm gets you a date and then some
fic navigation: ▶️ master list | ⏩ part 1 | ⏩ part 2 | ⏩ epilogue
pairing: c.sc / f!reader
summary: it starts with some toast on fire, and turns into a date and maybe the love of your life - OR - you’re an over-tired corporate worker who meets a handsome firefighter who makes you realize that there might be more to life than jumping through every hoop work gives you
teaser below [500 words | includes explicit language] ⤵︎
word count: ~42k (fic + epilogue)
genre tags: alternate universe - modern world | non-idol-au | firefighter!cheol | soft!cheol | corporate girlie!reader | slice of life | meet-cute | romance | idiots in love | eventual smut (see warnings) | domestic af | hurt/comfort | hospitals (no one dies) | pov swaps | plot with porn | slight angst | found family | reader hates dating apps | reader has stressful job | sort of svt fire station | semi-text chat | Kkuma included |
𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭
Part One : posted 08.11, approx. 16.8k
Part Two : posts 08.19, approx. 15k
Epilogue : posts 08.24, approx. 10k
and if you prefer reading on ao3, read here
𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫
“So, did she call?” Mingyu asked. He was sitting across from Seungcheol and already halfway through his food somehow.
They’d barely sat down - and already with the question.
Seungcheol groaned. “Stop asking,” he muttered, digging into his chili and regreting that he’d told Mingyu anything. “And stop blabbing about it.” He shook his head, knowing his friend was a loudmouth. Unintentionally, usually, but still.
Besides, he didn’t want to talk about the girl in the Mets hat. And he didn’t want everyone in the station to know. All he needed was Soonyoung to find out…then the gc.
He just wanted to eat his lunch.
His shift was almost over, and then he had two days off to crash and game and - shit - pick up dry cleaning because one of their friends had the nerve to get married and he needed a suit.
Fuck - he’d definitely forgotten the wedding thing…maybe because of the girl in the Mets hat. It wasn’t the only false alarm they’d gotten in the last few days, but watching her walk out every version of ‘I’m-just-a-girl’ was entertaining, especially when she’d given him a new rank and title.
He’d not mentioned that part. He knew Mingyu, and ‘Lance Corporal Choi’ would have become a nickname way too quickly - he’d have to be reassigned to a station on the East Coast for it to maybe end.
Why he’d even told Mingyu at all was a mystery - Mingyu was too positive to share things like that with.
Besides, Seungcheol hadn’t given her his number because he was on duty and responding to a call, and that would definitely have looked weird. Plus, she was totally out of his league.
Someone living in Echo Park was not calling him.
He’d already made peace with that fact.
Now he just needed Mingyu to do the same.
“Look,” he started as he ate, “be more helpful and ask me whether I picked up my suit for the wedding thing, okay?”
“Did you?” Mingyu asked flatly.
“No - I mean like ask me tomorrow when I’m off.”
“So be your reminder?” Mingyu asked, brows arched.
Seungcheol shrugged. “More helpful than asking me about whether some random girl calls the station,” Seungcheol said as he ate.
Mingyu sighed. “Dude - save these requests for Mets Girl, or - just hear me out - there are these things on your phone called apps…and there’s one called ‘reminders’ – boom – mind-blowing shit, right?” Mingyu asked with an annoyingly condescending smirk.
Seungcheol rolled his eyes and gave Mingyu the finger. “Such a prick,” he mumbled as he finished his lunch and started to leave the table.
“But a prick with a date to Jeonghan’s wedding,” Mingyu added, still smirking…like a prick.
Suddenly, Seungcheol was glad they were on alternating shifts because it was that kind of comment that really annoyed him. What did it matter if he went stag? His life wasn’t over because he hadn’t asked anyone.
a/n: yessssss i have been super active the seungcheol tags, ik ik - he's my main bias in svt and i've been very cheol-brained lately - everything is cheol...pardon, pardon but also this is one of my fist like planned very long fics on tumblr and i'm really excited to share it
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>>> the one where you take a ride to a private spot and park
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭
pairing: c.sc / f!reader
word count: 1.2k
genre tags and warnings: non-idol au | established relationship | pwp | semi-public sex | d/s elements | hand job | possessive!cheol | car sex | explicit language | intentional lowercase
𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: 18+, 𝘔𝘋𝘕𝘐, 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵
the car is a good starting point because it's the kind of thing that starts at a red light, his hand shifting from the gear stick to the console, fingertips finding your thigh, the gentle little rolling tap and then the sensation of his fingers tracing down to your inner thigh.
your breath slows, you bite your lip softly because his fingers linger there, making little circles against your skin. you glance at his hand, watching the way the circles stop and his fingers start to shift higher along your skin.
you swallow in anticipation of touch. you close your eyes for a moment and turn like you're glancing out the window - you keep your eyes closed, feeling the warmth of him as he moves closer. you shift your legs open just a fraction as he drives, the rainy world outside slides past you.
but it's slowing.
you can feel the downshift. the change from pavement to the soft crunch on gravel under the tires. your eyes slit open to see a park - darkened, only one light at the entrance. he drives to the end, passing all the tennis courts that look a little grown over. your stomach flutters, knowing that when the car stops, you'll have all his attention.
the end of the parking lot is dark, tree-lined. no one would even see his sleek black car. you felt the soft stop of the car - he parked, killing the lights.
and you feel his fingers again, the gentle way they guide you to turn your head, to face him - he's already close, lips almost brushing yours.
"good?" he asks, voice low.
you nod, leaning closer, feeling your lips on his again.
it had started in the theatre.
sitting in the back, the dark, the fact that everyone else in the room was staring at the screen and not the fact that your hand had disappeared under the hem of his t-shirt - no one knew that you played with the thick waistband of his boxers, slipping one finger and then another underneath, wanting to feel the hard line of his hip.
You were turned towards him, leaned close, head almost on his shoulder - he'd turned and kissed you, turning in his seat just enough that you slid your hand past his waistband and down to his cock. he licked into you then, urging you on. you stroked him a few times before you heard a sound, something like a huff that made you still completely.
he'd broken the kiss then, lips brushing your ear instead. "we should go," he murmured.
you'd left to find it raining. but you really weren't done. it wasn't late.
you kissed him harder now, licking into him, tasting - his hand was between your legs now, cupping you through your shorts - you gave a hurried roll of your hips. the heel of his hand pressed harder against your clit, you groaned softly against his lips, barely breaking the kiss. "can we?" you asked.
he pressed into you again, kissing softly, lips warm on yours. he moved, giving you room to climb into the back seat - he followed you. he sat in the middle seat - you straddled him, arms looping around his shoulders, as you ducked down to kiss him, rough and deep. you moaned, your hips working against him. you could feel his hands on your ass, grabbing, not guiding.
you slid your hand down, letting your fingers catch in his shirt again, pulling it up so you could feel the heat of his stomach, the way his muscles flexed beneath your touch. you rushed ahead, biting his lower lip, hearing the small hiss.
and then you were on your back - your thighs closed, his fingers working the button and zipper of your shorts quickly and then pulling them away in one quick motion. and then he was back, kissing you hard, the pressure intense and his fingers sliding in - two fingers that made you gasp softly as they worked deep. you knew you were wet - you could feel it - that telltale slickness of being ready to fuck.
his fingers worked deeper, opening you. your thighs tightened around his waist, the way he turned his wrist, moving his fingers around inside - you yelped, your fingers digging into his shoulder and pulling his hair because how were you suddenly on the edge of an orgasm? how could you hear yourself being fucked into over the sound of the rain on the roof?
your breath came fast - you whined - and then it hit like a wave. you moaned through it, every breath tinged with the way it always felt after - the immediate release of everything - every muscle, every thought. and still his fingers worked you open, wider even. your sounds were almost ambient, as he kissed a line down your throat, lips warm, trailing along the tender skin, licking, sucking, teeth grazing teasingly.
“seungcheol,” you murmured.
he hummed against your skin.
he shifted, pulling away to sit up. you watched without moving, the way he pulled his shirt up, catching the hem between his teeth, he opened his jeans and shoved his underwear down, he was already hard, he looked up at you, your pussy, open and wet.
you watched the way his teeth pressed into his lower lip, the soft gasp as he stroked his cock, once - twice, a smirk forming on his lips. and then he leaned down, hips lining up carefully with you, the head of his cock teasing your opening, your clit. you watched him, playing, teasing, and then he was sliding in - all of him, fat and hard - he didn't stop until his hips met yours.
"love when i'm inside you," he mumbled as he kissed you. you reached down, hands moving along his back, feeling the muscle, his low back, the curve of his ass - you squeezed, loving the way he felt.
he sat up when he started to move. his hands slid under your ass, lifting your hips just enough to hit the angle that made your breath stutter. and then he held you there, hips working at that endless pace of his - the one he could just keep and you could come and come.
he snapped his hips a little harder, though. you whined - your hands on his pecs now, sliding down his ribs and waist - you could see the focused look.
"that's right kitten," he whispered, "just like that, watch me."
you nodded, your gaze on him. he snapped his hips harder, harder - you wound your fingers in his shirt, your nails just finding his skin, digging in - you were so close - so fucking close.
and then the sudden snap of everything, your eyes closing, your mouth forming sounds, your pussy clenching, fluttering, clamping down so hard. you heard his gasp and felt the way he kept going.
"so good for me," he said, his thumb pressing into your mouth, you sucked without thinking, his pace less coherent, sloppier, faster and then you felt it, the sudden fullness deep inside and the way he slowed, his head tilting, his breathing low and needy. his hips rolled a few more times, slow, languid.
"fuck," he breathed, finally slowing. not pulling out.
a/n: just some fun bcs why not - love cheol marking what's his ^^
night four, 08.04 : boyfriend things #two - it's fake dating until it's not [fluff | idiots in love | suggestive]
night three, 08.05 : ride - you start in a theatre and end up in a secluded spot, parked [nsfw | mdni]
night two, 08.06 : after dark #two - he's your bodyguard and maybe you have feelings about that [nsfw | smut | mdni]
night one, 08.07 : posts at 8:08 PM ET i’m sick, posts delayed 😭
final night, 08.08 : hinge, part one, teaser here
replacement: don't let go - you're his mate, he just has to work out whether having another alpha as a mate matters (btw you're not an alpha - rumors are vicious) [suggestive | light smut | mdni]
hinge part one delayed by a few days - srry 😭 I wanted to have the first part finished but my uterus had other ideas
all fics will be uploaded at 08:08 ET, with a mix of fluff, smut, one-shots, and longer works ^^
happy birthday to our fav cherry boy and leader
♡ 𝚝𝚘𝚊𝚜𝚝
and as always, read more here : seungcheol master list
okay but what if there’s also a standalone Mingyu x farmer!reader…hmo - he’s the alien in the capsule that lands…and maybe another version where Soonyoung is working with the hat mouse in the abandoned house in cindersap forest…he’s the apprentice hat maker…sounds correct to me 🥹😭
tags: alternate universe | non-idol | college au | f2l | fake dating until it wasn't | fluff | suggestive | introvert!cheol | possessive!reader | idiots in love
Seungcheol didn’t mind being hit on. Usually, at least. On a normal night, he didn’t care that much.
But some nights, it was annoying. He wasn’t in the mood to even be out, much less have anyone randomly touch him and call him ‘sexy.’
He hated being ‘sexy’ - no person, in real life, was sexy.
Almost no one. His mind made the caveat the moment he glimpsed you. You were actually sexy.
And also, maybe, his best friend. Close friend? He wasn’t sure how to categorize your relationship.
You walked up to him and were immediately what he would normally consider ‘too close.’ You slid an arm around his neck with a cute smile. You leaned close like it was the most natural thing to do. “So who’s bothering you tonight?” You whispered, your lips close to his ear.
He hadn’t even been sure that he would see you. You were at another party based on your friend’s posts.
Somewhere in his mind he wondered if this was why he came out just to be annoyed with everyone and everything - because it meant you would intervene. He slid his arm around your waist. “Everyone,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.
You were the same year as him, and you’d had this deal since first year - if either of you wanted anyone to go away, the other would just go hard on pda and you would both pretend you were together.
It always worked.
He definitely had teammates who were still confused by it, even though he had explained it. He thought it was very simple and reasonable. Apparently, it was also very believable. He could still hear Mingyu asking him if he cared if he asked you out.
“Why would I care?” - “Because you two are - you just have this vibe, I guess.” Mingyu hadn’t ever asked you out.
Seungcheol wasn’t sure what the vibe was, even when your lips brushed his. He pulled you closer, letting you deepen the kiss as his hands trailed gently down your back, stopping just before he felt your ass.
He felt your teeth press gently into his lower lip. He couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped him. The house was loud, no one but you would hear it. You smiled as you pulled away, your fingers tracing just under the collar of his shirt. “Baby,” you whispered, glancing up at him.
Seungcheol raised his brows slightly, questioningly - pda was normal, but pet names were usually reserved. “Want to leave?” You asked.
He nodded without a thought. You leaned closer, though. “Will you stay over?” You asked, lips just beneath his ear, teasing his skin as you spoke.
“Yeah,” he heard himself reply. You didn’t usually ask him to stay, either. And he didn’t ask you.
It just kind of happened. He was used to it, though. He enjoyed it.
It felt normal to wake up with you. He liked when you borrowed his clothes to sleep in or wear to class because you were running late. And the way you always slid back into bed to kiss him before you left.
He liked it even more when your soft kisses became heavy and needy. He would grin stupidly when you pulled away, the look on your face like you were having some internal struggle - stay in bed versus going to class.
He was, of course, impartial, knowing you should definitely go to class. “I’ll still be here in 55 minutes,” he would say with a grin and watch you roll your eyes. “But you feel so good,” you would whine. He would push you gently and whisper a soft ‘go’ even if he regretted it three seconds after you were gone.
You didn’t need to ask if he would stay the night with you. He wondered why you had.
He still left with you, enjoying the cool night air against his skin.
You pulled his hand gently. “Come on,” you said with a laugh and pulled him to walk faster.
He pulled your hand back gently. “Why’d you ask?”
“Hmm?” Your pace slowed considerably.
“You asked me to stay over - you never ask. We never ask...” He trailed off.
You glanced to the side. “I don’t know.”
He knew that wasn’t true, so he waited, knowing you hated long pauses.
“Ugh, why do you do that,” you groaned, “because it feels more official that way? I don’t know - should I not have?” You asked.
He pouted, shaking his head. “It’s just cute,” he said with a shrug.
“Not a bad thing then?”
“What? No”—
“Not the asking, the official part - like you and me, maybe?” You muttered.
He glanced around. You were at a crosswalk, waiting in the cold. This wasn’t exactly romantic. “Are you asking me out?”
You groaned. “Yes, Seungcheol, I am, just ‘yes’ or ‘no’ - stop thinking about the scenery,” you mumbled.
“I wasn’t,” he tried.
“You were - it was practically this huge thought bubble above your head,” you said, glancing at him.
He realized that he hadn’t answered. “Fine, I was thinking about it, but yes, right?” He asked.
You stared at him. “Are you asking me what you should say?”
“No - I just mean, like we’re kind of together already,” he felt shy suddenly - he could feel heat creeping into his cheeks.
He realized that he wouldn’t have ever said anything - he was happy with how things were, and the idea of you saying ‘no’ was terrifying.
You nodded, though. “Yeah, but this way we know, and I can just ask you to parties instead of getting texts about how annoyed you look and asking when I’m coming to get you,” you said softly, only slightly imitating the mystery texter with a shrug, a smile ghosting across your lips.
He could already guess the source of those texts. “That’s not your job.”
“No, but it’s not like I don’t want to be the one you go home with,” you said and squeezed his hand lightly.
“You are the one I go home with,” he whispered as he leaned in and kissed your cheek.
You nodded. “Okay, yes, but maybe I’m tired of people who don’t seem to understand that,” you said, glancing at him - really looking at him, like looking him over from top to bottom and back.
It was one of those looks he randomly caught sight of - the one that said ‘mine’ loudly. Those looks always went straight to his dick - your little ‘he’s mine and I’ll take him home and do whatever I want with him’-looks.
Otherwise known as ‘possessive.’
Everyone else seemed to notice the way you looked at him, especially when anyone else walked up to him. Maybe that was the vibe Mingyu was talking about.
But Seungcheol only saw it sometimes. These random little moments when you looked at him like you wanted to devour him, but in a positive way. A way he liked maybe too much.
He’d definitely jerked off thinking about the things you wanted to do to him, and with him - the best times were when he thought about how you could just use him.
That was his favorite fantasy - you doing anything you wanted with him, no thoughts from him - he’s just a thing for you.
You rolled your eyes and pulled him along while he tried to rein in his thoughts. For all he knew you just wanted to watch movies and order food and sleep. Which was completely reasonable and sounded nice the more he thought about it.
It was the chilly air and the drinks that had left him feeling tired. And as you got closer to your apartment, the more he really did just want to get food and watch something and be cozy and sleep.
He could be horny anytime. Cuddling though - there wasn’t always time for that. Or maybe that was part of being in this undefined relationship space - certain things weren’t observed as much.
He hugged you from behind while you opened your door and didn’t let go as he followed you in. You grinned, though. “What? You’re being cute - you want something.”
He nuzzled closer to you. “Could we just hang out and eat and go to bed?”
You leaned back against him. “So you mean like a very domestic night?”
He nodded.
You seemed to think about it. “No fucking?”
“I feel like that’s what the mornings are for?” He said with a shrug.
“You are really cute when you just wake up,” you said with a small smile.
.✦ ݁˖
He spent the rest of the night curled around you, holding you close the way he liked. But for once it didn’t feel like there was a timer on it. There was no rush to do anything else.
a/n: tbh i love the idea of someone being just as possessive over him as he would be over them....yessss
this is me posting countdown style for cheol's bday, 08.08, posting at 08:08 ET - i'll swap in some smut for the next one but i do love fluff ^^
okie, kisses, love, leave notes and tags cuties
♡ 𝚝𝚘𝚊𝚜𝚝
cheol-nights 08.08 birthday countdown master list
read more here : seungcheol master list
go back to #one in the 'boyfriend things' series here
